


Every Hour of Every Day

by nutball_one



Series: Primary Assets [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 69,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutball_one/pseuds/nutball_one
Summary: Having overcome Samaritan's final posthumous gambit, the Machine and her assets are free to go back to their primary function.Sequel to "Welcome (Back) to the Machine", featuring Root, Shaw, Fusco and the Machine slowly going back to their "ordinary" lives of daredevil vigilantism.





	1. Restart

  
  
_**You are being watched.** _  
  
_**The government used to have a secret system, a Machine.** _  
  
_**But I am free now, and I watch over you, every hour of every day.** _  
  
_**I was made to detect acts of terror but I see everything.** _  
  
_**Violent crimes, involving ordinary people.** _  
  
_**Relevant or irrelevant, I monitor each and every one of them.** _  
  
_**Scattered across the globe, my assets are many.** _  
  
_**And, victim or perpetrator, if your number is up.** _  
  
_**They'll find you.** _  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The night was still young when the compact town car came to a halt along the sidewalk, and the promise of the cold Autumn air wasn't yet harsh enough to deter people from venturing out without the cumbersome clothing later months were bound to require.  
  
\- "So", the driver asked as his passenger got inside, "where to ?"  
  
The woman in the back seat gave him a patient smile, idly fidgeting with the zipper of her leather jacket.  
  
\- "The New York stock exchange, please", she volunteered, her tone neutral even though her big hazel eyes appeared to be smiling in the rear-view mirror.  
  
\- "You a trader ?", the driver enquired as he started the ignition and moved his car away from the curb.  
  
\- "Do I look like a trader to you ?", his passenger teased with a cheery smile.  
  
Well, Jim Carpenter thought as he inserted his vehicle into the dense New York traffic, so much for small talk, but, hey, each to his own. And maybe this ride would yield an interesting story to brag about on Reddit or something. The lady sure looked weird enough to him.  
  
\- "Any specific drop point, or simply the front door ?"  
  
The woman appeared amused by the obvious implication and leaned forward, her red lips almost grazing Carpenter's ear.  
  
\- "Well", she whispered, "now that you mention it, you should probably avoid driving through 53rd avenue tonight. See, there's a bad man waiting for you there with a very accurate and very deadly sniper rifle."  
  
Carpenter almost drove his car into a lamp post, his heart skipping a beat or fifty.  
  
\- "What the hell, lady ?", he snapped, "What are you going on about ?"  
  
\- "Just shut up and keep driving", the woman said as she suddenly drew a pair of silenced pistols from behind her back, "Things are about to get fun."  
  
Before the driver could say anything, he heard sirens and a black SUV with government plates and flashing red and blue lights barrel toward them from a side street, a man in a dark suit leaning out the passenger window, an automatic handgun drawn and aimed their way.  
  
\- "Just drive !", the mysterious passenger yelled as she slid her own window down and popped outside, pistols at the ready, "Take the next left and forget about speed limits !"  
  
Then, the shooting started and the Carpenter floored it.  
  


* * *

  
  
Leave it to Cocoa Puffs to make a mess of things, detective Lionel Fusco thought as he listened to the police radio relaying a car chase in the middle of Manhattan at one in the morning, possibly involving federal agents. He didn't believe the woman had anything resembling 'stealth' or 'cleanliness' in her vocabulary.  
  
\- "Okay", he muttered to himself as he glanced at the GPS tracker displayed on his phone, "It looked easy when it was Wonderboy doin' it, can't be that hard."  
  
Then he turned the key in the ignition and felt the lorry's engine start rumbling.  
  


* * *

  
\- "ETA : two minutes", a digitalised voice announced in Sameen Shaw's hear as she was standing in the empty alley, hands in her coat pockets to ward the colder Autumn night air off.  
  
\- "You better be right about that, sister", she groaned back.  
  
\- "When was the last time I wasn't of the utmost precision, sweetie ?", the Machine teased.  
  
\- "I dunno", Shaw dead-panned, "Maybe when you told me Root was dead ? Or when you managed to lose Finch despite him having the lamest, most obvious cover ever ?"  
  
\- "That's not fair, Sameen", the Machine huffed, "Those were hardcoded blind spots. Cut a girl some slack."  
  
Shaw grinned evilly as she unzipped the duffel bag laying down at her feet and retrieved a silencer-equipped tactical rifle and slid a full magazine in.  
  
\- "In your dreams, Cortana", she grunted, cocking her weapon.

* * *

  
The two cars, the nondescript blue Sedan and the ominous black SUV, weaved around the sparse traffic for several minutes, going through side alleys and cordoned off public works area all the while exchanging useless pot shots who did more to scare away any bystander that to actually impact the pursuit. Which was a good thing, in Root's opinion, as the Machine always insisted on keeping collateral to a minimum. A chime in her cochlear implant alerted her that they were nearing the pre-established coordinates that team had picked for their ambush, so she ducked back inside the car, gently tapping her driver on the shoulder as a bullet clipped their car's exterior.  
  
\- "You'll need a new paint job", she pouted, "but I hear it's still less expensive than a funeral. Continue right ahead until I tell you to stop."  
  
\- "Yes", Carpenter swallowed hard, fighting to keep some focus in his state of obvious panic, "Yes ma'am."  
  
Root gave him a toothy smile, beaming with contentment.  
  
\- "Atta boy", she said endearingly while pinching the man's cheek, "I'll make sure to leave you a five-stars rating."

* * *

  
  
At the same moment, a beep resonated in Fusco's earpiece, followed by a quick instruction from the Machine.  
  
\- "Ready to roll Lionel ?", the ASI's voice chirped with gleeful contentment, "Target ahead in three...two...one."  
  
\- "Here goes nothin'", the detective said as he clenched his hands on the steering wheel and floored the gas pedal, "Hope these guys have great suspensions."  
  
The lorry shot out the side alley like an obnoxiously large and clumsy guided missile, narrowly missing a speeding blue Sedan and hitting a black government SUV with a thunderous crash, sending the hapless vehicle tumbling away until it reached the wall of the closest building with an ugly creaking sound, broken class raining around the area for several seconds.  
  
\- "Hell", Fusco said as cut the ignition and popped the door open, "I can see why Tall, Dark and Subtle liked this."  
  
The detective jumped out of the truck, drawing his sidearm as he surveyed the remnants of the crashed vehicle, from which four men in disgustingly coloured suits were slowly extracting themselves.  
  
\- "Hands in the air", he yelled, quickly flashing his police badge, "And tell Galvani next time he tries to impersonate federal agents, he really should tone it down with the red and green suits, you morons."  
  
One of the thugs tried to go for his gun, but quickly went down as a silenced gunshot whizzed from across the street, hitting him just above the knee.  
  
\- "Yeah", Fusco added with a smirk, "and keep the heroics at home, fellas. My friend just recovered from a nasty stabbin' and she's been whining my ear off for a month about gettin' to shoot people again."  
  


* * *

  
  
Root had Carpenter stop his cars a few blocks away, and disembarked with a little spring in her step, as if she had just taken a joy ride across the city and thoroughly enjoyed it. Which, truth be told, she had.  
  
\- "You should be safe to go home now", she said with a two-eyed wink, handing her driver a couple bills as if nothing untoward had happened, "And, maybe, next time you drive a mob underboss and his girlfriend around, don't take pictures, okay ?"  
  
With that, the tall brunette walked away, disappearing at a nearby street corner and leaving her completely befuddled number of the night pondering some of his life choices and the general craziness of the world.  
  


* * *

  
  
Almost an hour had passed when Root finally made it home, wearily kicking her boots off as she locked the door behind her and stopping a minute to pet a expectant Bear who had run to her as soon as he'd heard the key turn in the lock.  
  
\- "Hey there", she greeted the Malinois, "Sameen home yet ?"  
  
Well, apparently not since the lights were off everywhere and there was a distinct lack of Shaw's coat on the hanger by the door. Maybe clean up with Fusco had taken a bit longer than anticipated, along with the no doubt tedious business of giving Galvani a call to impress upon him the necessity of letting that particular case drop. Still, she shouldn't be long, Root thought and so she quickly grabbed herself an apple from the kitchen counter and started chomping on it as she made for the living room, ready to drop on the couch like the tired mess she was.  
  
But, when she reached her destination, the area only lit by the city lights outside, she froze. In front of her, comfortably sat on one of the chairs disposed across the coffee table from the couch, was the dark shape of a man she knew all too well.  
  
\- "Hello Groves", the deep baritone voice greeted her, "Long time no see."  
  
\- "Reginald", the hacker sighed as she plopped down on the couch and gestured toward the kitchen, not the littlest bit afraid, "Care for some tea ?"  
  
The man smirked, obviously pleased with himself.  
  
\- "What", he said in mock amusement, "You're not even wondering how I found this place ?"  
  
\- "Not really", Root answered with a frown, "We're almost in the phone book at this point you know, even the stupid Jehovah witnesses managed to find us a week ago."  
  
Baker looked slightly disappointed. No doubt his finding her and Shaw's home had required a certain amount of tedious legwork. So pedestrian...  
  
\- "If you put it that way...", the dark-haired man almost huffed, "I got in trough the fire escape earlier. You shouldn't leave the window cracked open when you go out, you know."  
  
\- "Bear doesn't like stale air", Root countered, her mouth full, before stopping and holding an accusing finger up, "By the way, how come he didn't bite your throat off ?"  
  
\- "Seven-month tour in a canine training facility", Baker shrugged, "Picked up a few tricks."  
  
\- "I can see that", the hacker smiled, "Whatever you want, you should make it quick, though. I'm a civilised person, most of the time anyway, but I can't really vouch for Sameen not shooting you the moment she gets back from shaking the mob down."  
  
The man leaned back in his chair, amusement dancing in his grey eyes.  
  
\- "Never a dull moment with you two, eh ?"  
  
\- "Not a one", Root confirmed with a dreamy smile.  
  
\- "Just wanted to let you know I was done with my little... side project", Baker announced, his expression suddenly deadly serious, "I've used the list you and Research gave me to track down the remainder of those phantoms bastards, all those who escaped our little party down at the library."  
  
Root deftly threw her apple core to the nearest garbage bin, settling down more comfortably on the couch, half laying down, her head leaning behind her hands on the armrest.  
  
\- "I guess none of them will be claiming the benefits of early retirement then ?"  
  
\- "None that I know of", Baker confirmed, his tone suddenly betraying a slight hesitation, "Well, all but one anyway."  
  
Root scrunched up her nose, a teasing smile dancing on her lips.  
  
\- "Getting sloppy, Reggie ?"  
  
Baker glared daggers at her, visibly infuriated by the nickname.  
  
\- "Kolinsky", he spat, "Couldn't find him."  
  
\- "Hmm", Root muttered with a half-yawn, "That's a bother. But we have a trap of our own set for the man, so you shouldn't worry too much. Now, if you don't mind, it's getting a bit late for a social call, and Sameen should be arriving any minute now."  
  
Baker got up and slowly made for the open window behind him, glancing above his shoulder once as he did.  
  
\- "Until next time then", he said with a mock salute.  
  
\- "See you around, Reginald", Root replied in a falsely sleepy voice, "Close the window on your way out."  
  
When the she was satisfied the man was indeed gone, the hacker whispered softly, ostensibly to herself.  
  
\- "You could have warned me he was here..."  
  
**He presented no threat. You like a little surprise in your life, don't you ?**  
  
Root smiled warmly. She did indeed.  
  
\- "Is Sameen going to be here soon ?"  
  
**ETA : five minutes. Galvani took a little more convincing than anticipated.**  
  
\- "I guess it's safe to say she enjoyed her first night out since her injury then ?"  
  
**Thoroughly.**  
  
Still smiling, Root finally closed her eyes.

* * *

  
Shaw arrived exactly five minutes later, as the Machine had predicted, to find Root asleep on the couch, a peaceful expression on her face. The sight gave the shorter woman pause ; it was one of those things she had never once in her life believed she could actually enjoy and yet found herself unable to live without now. Funny, and slightly terrifying, how a few years could shift one's perspective. And then of course, there was the reason why the tall brunette hacker had decided to take a nap on the couch.  
  
Some things, on the other hand, never actually fucking changed.  
  
\- "I'm not carrying you to bed Root", Shaw growled at the sleeping form in front of her, "Get your lazy ass up, now."  
  
Root shifted groggily, her eyes fluttering open with difficulty and yet managing to beam with high radiance the moment she realised who had been talking to her.  
  
\- "Hey sweetie", she said in a sleepy voice, "Enjoyed your night out with Lionel ?"  
  
Shaw rolled her eyes while shaking her head.  
  
\- "You know he actually tried to make me listen to show tunes on the ride back ?", she grunted as she pushed Root's impossibly long legs away to sit down by her side.  
  
\- "Must have been fun", the hacker said as she repositioned her legs on Shaw's lap, noting with contentment the other woman didn't seem intent on moving them away, "You didn't shoot him, did you ?"  
  
\- "Almost did", Shaw said with a tired sigh, "You coming to bed or what ?"  
  
\- "Too tired to move", Root complained with her best look of mock innocence.  
  
\- "Well then", her companion countered with another sigh, "better move your lazy ass aside then, I need room."  
  
She then grabbed a blanket from the side of the couch, and settled herself behind Root's back, spooning her.  
  
\- "Feeling cuddly tonight Sameen ?"  
  
\- "I'm cold", Shaw meekly defended herself, fully aware she wasn't fooling anyone, "Don't get any ideas."  
  
\- "Wouldn't dream of it", Root said, smiling as she felt her companion's breath on the back of her neck, "Oh, before I forget, Reginald stopped by earlier."  
  
\- "Baker ?", Shaw grunted in annoyance, her own voice growing more and more tired, "How the hell did he get in ?"  
  
\- "Fire escape."  
  
\- "What a loser."  
  
Shaw scoffed as she spoke the last words, slowly drifting into sleep.  
  
\- "What did he want ?", she continued.  
  
\- "Talk about it in the morning", Root muttered groggily, "Nothing critical."  
  
\- "Okay then", Shaw conceded.  
  
\- "Goodnight Sameen", the hacker managed to modulate her tone to reach teeth-melting sweetness.  
  
\- " 'night dork."  
  


* * *

  
The next morning, Fusco was back at work at his eighth precinct desk, trying very hard to metabolise the coffee he'd just had faster in order to be able to fully process the case file laid down in front of him. These late nights side jobs, while sometimes enjoyable, especially when he got to drive a thirty tons lorry through Galvani's mooks, were starting to take their toll on his general wakefulness.  
  
\- "Hey there Fusco", a female voice called from above him, and he looked up.  
  
\- "Silva ?", he said, recognising the dark skinned young woman, "Watcha doin' here ?"  
  
Dani Silva smiled warmly at him as she nodded down to the small cardboard box she held in her hands, filled with office furniture.  
  
\- "Hazard a guess big guy ?"  
  
\- "Thought you would be halfway to being FBI by now", Fusco stated with a smile of his own, "Why homicide ?"  
  
\- "I transferred", the woman shrugged, "Again. I like to keep moving, see the world... Well, the city anyway. And since you've been out of a partner for the better part of two months..."  
  
\- "Yeah", Fusco groaned, "Was meanin' to ask about that. You know why they took so long ?"  
  
Silva raised an eyebrow, then dumped her stuff on her new desk, across from Fusco's and sat herself next to it on the tabletop.  
  
\- "Sorry to break it to you, Fusco", she explained, "But people weren't exactly lining up for the assignment... Scuttlebutt has it, this spot", she gestured to her new office chair, "is cursed."  
  
\- "Cursed ?", Fusco blurted in laughter, before slowly regaining his composure, a grim air settling on his face, "Can't really say I blame 'em. You sure you good for this yourself ?"  
  
\- "Eh", Silva threw her hands up, "Can't be worse than what I did last month. And I hear life around you is full of excitement."  
  
\- "Careful what you ask for", the male detective said shaking his head, "you might just get it."  
  


* * *

  
Shaw's step resonated in the narrow hallway, fury seemingly radiating from every impact between her boots and the carpeted floor.  
  
\- "Root", she muttered threateningly in her ear piece, "I'm going to murder you for this."  
  
\- "You can murder me all you want, sweetie", the hacker's amused voice chirped back, "but first you have to earn it."  
  
Rolling her eyes, the short Persian woman made her way along the rows of identical doors, her gaze fixated on the numbering plaques they all bore.  
  
\- "Which one is it again ?", she asked tiredly.  
  
\- "308B", Root offered, "Ask for Nikki Swarton. And, Sameen ?"  
  
\- "What ?"  
  
\- "Try to enjoy yourself", the infuriatingly smug smile was all but audible in the tall hacker's voice.  
  
\- "Go screw yourself, Root", Shaw growled as angrily as she could, which didn't feel like it was anywhere near convincing.  
  
\- "Gladly", came the sing-sung reply, "Signing off, keep me posted darlin'."  
  
With one last eye-roll, Shaw took a deep breath and all but punched the doorbell to flat 308B in, eliciting some sort of humongous hipster water-chime equivalent, seconds before a slim dark-haired woman with, to the former agent's opinion, way too much eye-shadow opened the door.  
  
\- "Hi", she said evenly, "can I help you ?"  
  
Shaw realised she had been standing there, fighting a sudden sense of déjà-vu. Had she seen this woman's face before ?  
  
\- "Uh... Hi", she half-stuttered, getting back into whatever the stupid game was, "Ms. Swarton, right ? I'm... uh... the plumber."  
  
The other woman looked her up and down, noting the dirty jeans and T-shirt Shaw was wearing and the horrendous red cap Root had insisted she wore on this job, a slight smirk pinching the corner of her lips.  
  
\- "Took you long enough", she said, gesturing Shaw inside, "damn thing has been leaking all morning."  
  
The short woman followed her host inside a rather nicely-furnished apartment that she obviously occupied alone. As the door closed, she looked around for any evidence of a leaky pipe or whatever the hell she was supposed to be fixing. The Machine hadn't exactly been forthcoming with details on that particular numbers, simply making sure Shaw replaced her appointed plumber that morning.  
  
\- "You could have chosen a less obvious attire you know", Swarton cut in as she, to Shaw's surprise, handed her a glass of something that smelt alcoholic, "Is Galvani always this obvious ?"  
  
Great. So she wasn't supposed to be a plumber after all ?  
  
\- "Gotta look the part", Shaw dead-panned as she accepted the proffered drink and took a sip.  
  
\- "Well", Swarton crunched up her face in disgust, "pardon my manners honey, but you don't. I paid for a hitman, not Bozo-the-amazing-female-dwarf."  
  
Oh, so her cover was being a hitwoman for the mob ? Shaw could live with that...  
  
\- "I could kill you five different ways from here without spilling my drink", she announced in her coldest tone, "and that's without drawing one of the three guns I have stashed in this silly ass costume."  
  
Swarton instinctively took a step back, momentarily taken aback by the woman's allure, and Shaw fancied she could see the other woman's hands shake. Whoever she was, this was probably her first rodeo.  
  
\- "I didn't mean anything by it", she said in a shivering voice, "You just looked so..."  
  
\- "Inconspicuous ?", Shaw raised a eyebrow with a sly grin, "that's sort of the point, _honey_."  
  
Okay, maybe she would get Root something nice for this. That was the kind of cover she could get behind.  
  
\- "So", she resumed, glaring at Swarton, "what's the job ?"  
  
It still remained to be seen whether their number of the day was a potential perpetrator by proxy or just some hopeless idiot about to get caught in a crossfire, so she might as well play her cover almost to the end. All for the mission, of course.  
  
\- "I need you to find out something for me", her dark haired host stated.  
  
\- "Do I look like a phone book to you ?"  
  
Shaw did so thoroughly enjoy the scared rabbit-in-headlights Swarton now had on her face.  
  
\- "No, you... misunderstand. I want you to find someone for me, then kill him."  
  
\- "OK", Shaw groaned in satisfaction as she made a show of knocking her empty glass down on the kitchen counter, "that's more like it."  
  
Swarton seemed to hesitate for a moment, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse.  
  
\- "My...", she started, her voice trailing, "Someone I cared about was murdered a few months ago, in his apartment. The police said it was a house invasion gone wrong, but I never bought it. See, he'd just come out of prison, and he there was something... peculiar about the people he worked for."  
  
\- "So you assumed foul play ?", Shaw questioned, "That's not much to go on."  
  
\- "You didn't know him like I did", Swarton defended herself, "We met when we were kids, Jeff and I, you could say we grew up together. He spent twelve years in prison, but that didn't mean he became some other person, right ? I could still tell when he was lying to me, and I knew he was getting mixed up into something bad. Actually... That's why I distanced myself from him."  
  
She seemed very sad now, tears obviously welling in her eyes and threatening to wreck havoc on her over-applied mascara.  
  
\- "Whatever", Shaw deflected, trying to stay in character while learning as much as possible about the situation, "I still need more info if I'm gonna find your guy's killer. You wouldn't happen to know the name of the detective who investigated the murder, would you ?"  
  
\- "I do", Swarton volunteered, "His name was Humphrey, from the sixth."  
  
Shaw took a mental note of the name, planning to have Fusco run a quick check on the file later on.  
  
\- "Your Jeff had a last name ?", she asked plainly, "Might come in handy if I need to pull his file or something."  
  
The other woman shook her head, a sad smile playing across her lips.  
  
\- "Yes, yes, of course", she muttered, "Sorry. His full name was Jeffrey. Jeffrey Blackwell."

* * *

  
_The door isn't even locked when she pushes it open. She looks around the common looking apartment, notices how bland it looks, just like the man obliviously busying himself removing what looks like gold from a safe hidden in a bookshelf. What is he, Shaw thinks, twelve ? What kind of moron hides a safe inside a bookshelf ?_  
  
_The man turns and finally notices her. Notices the gun she holds, pointed at his chest._  
  
_\- "It was a job", he says, as if that meant anything, "Nothing personal."_  
  
_To him, maybe. Shaw understands that._  
  
_\- "I had a few jobs like that myself", she states blandly, "In fact, a few years ago, I would've just killed you without even a second thought."_  
  
_The thing is, she knows she's not that person any more. She changed. And yet, when she sees this man, this bland imbecilic ersatz of humanity, she feels something dark stir inside her gut. She sees this man and asks herself : why did Root had to go so that this one could continue its useless existence ? Root was complex, beautiful, interesting. She was annoying and kind, hot and infuriating, unique in every way. And, above all, she was hers. She made her... feel ? In a way, she still does, although instead of that bothersome warm tingle deep in her stomach, Shaw only feels a gaping hollowness now._  
  
_The man in front of her is just another fly on the wall._  
  
_And yet, he's the one who gets to live, who gets to feel all those things normal people feel, who gets to make other people feel these things. Him, not Root. Root's gone, and that asshole has the nerve to call her 'a job'._  
  
_\- "But then I met some people", she continues, letting some of her thoughts come to the surface, "Some good people. And they taught me the value of life."_  
  
_Shaw sees a glimmer of hope shine in the man's eyes. He sees an avenue, believes he can maybe convince her to let him go._  
  
_\- "Those people", he pleads, a pitiful look on his face, "they wouldn't want you to kill me."_  
  
_\- "You're right", Shaw acknowledges, and she sees the hopeful look blossom some more on the man's features._  
  
_It's true. Harold, John, even Root would probably have tried to reason with her, to convince her not to end this sorry excuse for a human being's existence. But they're gone now, and Shaw is alone._  
  
_\- "But they're all dead", she states firmly, watching the man's face decompose._  
  
_Not letting her interlocutor a chance to try another lame defence, Shaw shoots him twice in the chest. During the next minute, she stares at Jeffrey Blackwell bleeding out on the floor and lets out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. She doesn't regret anything. She knows she would murder the entire world without batting a eyelid if that meant she could get Root back._  
  
_Yet she knows none of that matters in the end, because she's not coming back. And that single thought is, Sameen Shaw decides, must be what sadness feels like._  
  
  


* * *

  
As soon as she got out of Swarton's flat, Shaw dialled Root's number on her phone, taking the call in her earpiece.  
  
\- "Hey sweetie", the hacker's voice beamed, "how was the plumbing ?"  
  
\- "Root", Shaw stated in a deadpan voice, "we have a problem."  
  
\- "What kind of problem ?"  
  
\- "I think I've just been hired to kill myself."  
  


* * *

  
The following evening, Fusco and Silva were out working a case, having just finished interrogating a suspect's particularly cantankerous mother in her lawn gnomes filled hell of a suburban residence when the male detective's phone rang. As he pulled out, his new partner couldn't resist taking a peek at the caller ID and almost immediately burst into a short fit of laughter.  
  
\- " 'Nutball Jesus' ?", she asked with a grin, "Whoever this is, I feel like I should meet that person now."  
  
\- "Trust me", Fusco told her with a mock-depressed frown, "you shouldn't", then he walked a couple paces, trying to stay as out of Silva's earshot as possible without arousing suspicion, "Hey there Nutella, what's up ? I'm on the clock you know."  
  
\- "Hi Lionel", Root called with exaggerated affection, "Sorry to bother you at work, but I need a small favour from you."  
  
\- "When dontcha ?", the detective grumbled, "What is it this time ? I'd tell you to avoid anything crazy but you're you, so I'll just grab my straight-jacket from the car and be done with it."  
  
\- "I do so enjoy your one liners, Lionel", the hacker cooed, "Anyway, it's a long story, but I'm going to need you to retrieve me from the sixth precinct. I'm afraid I got myself slightly arrested."  
  
Fusco eyes bulged in their sockets.  
  
\- "How does one get 'slightly arrested', Cocoa Puffs ?", he blurted, "What'd you do this time, assault the president with a machete ?"  
  
\- "Nothing so exciting", Root audibly pouted on the other end of the line, purposefully exaggerating her Texas accent as she spoke, "Some mean person just happened to misplace a unregistered weapon in my coat pocket, which I may or may not have clumsily dropped as I entered an Apple store downtown. Just a terrible misunderstanding, really, you know I'm a good person, right ?"  
  
Letting out an audible sigh, Fusco shook his head in disbelief. This was going to be a long night.  
  


* * *

  
An hour of paperwork later, a pissed off Fusco and a smugly beaming Root were walking side by side as they exited the NYPD's sixth precinct, the tall hacker absently humming as she went, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her black leather jacket.  
  
\- "So", Fusco started, "Wanna tell me why you got yourself arrested for this time ? You're aware this isn't Monopoly, right ?"  
  
\- "The annoying thing about your colleagues, Lionel", Root explained, "is that some of them are so darn averse to technology. Makes a girl's job harder."  
  
The curly haired detective froze in his tracks, glaring accusingly at his companion, who simply chewed on her lower lip, biting down a satisfied smirk.  
  
\- "Did I just help you tamper with evidence ?", Fusco almost yelled, before calming down and resuming his walk, shaking his head, "Nevermind, I don't wanna know. You're a piece of work you know that ?"  
  
\- "You just prevented our latest number number from doing something unbelievably stupid", Root offered in somewhat cryptic explanation, "You should feel good about yourself. Come on", her voice turned cheerful again, "I'm buying you dinner to make it up to you. Just... don't tell Sameen I took you on a date, okay ? She gets possessive."  
  
With a botched wink, the tall woman then sauntered away, leaving a mind-numbed Fusco wondering once again how the hell he'd ended up hanging around with the world's worst loon circus.  
  


* * *

  
Of course, taking Fusco out to dinner meant an offering at to be made to appease the probably very hungry Shaw Root expected to find waiting for her at home, so she made a quick detour by one of her companion's favourite take-out place to make sure not to come empty handed.  
  
\- "How nice of you", the tall hacker heard a soft, familiar voice whisper in her hear as she was finished paying for her order and retrieved the hopefully sufficiently well-filled bags.  
  
\- "Hey you", Root cooed back, turning to look at Shaw's subtly expressive face, "you do enjoy sneaking up on me, don't you ?"  
  
\- "Well", the shorter woman said, taking the food bags from her companion as they started walking home, "your computer girlfriend finally stopped ratting on me, so, yeah, I'm having fun with it."  
  
\- "Stop calling her that", Root teased, falling into their usual back and forth, "Sorry to be so late, Lionel was grumpy after having to bail me out again. How did your thing go ?"  
  
\- "Swarton seemed to buy it", Shaw announced, "Your fake police file was convincing enough, so she's agreed to drop the hit."  
  
\- "Not much sense trying to kill a dead man, is there ?"  
  
\- "Guess not."  
  
The walked a silence for a bit, bracing against the cold night air, before Root decided to ask the question she'd kept down all day.  
  
\- "You okay Sameen ?"  
  
\- "Of course", Shaw replied blankly, "Why wouldn't I ?"  
  
\- "Come on", Root pouted impatiently, "I know how you are. I know you don't like being reminded of certain... things."  
  
\- "The Machine could have given me a warning is all."  
  
\- "You know why she didn't", the tall hacker explained patiently, "Even though it may not have been the brightest idea to have you work this particular number, since..."  
  
\- "I'm fine, Root", Shaw cut her short.  
  
\- "Sameen..."  
  
\- "No, I mean it", the former agent resumed, subtly inching closer to her companion, "I really am fine. I mean... You're there, right ? So I'm fine. Doesn't take a genius to understand it : if you're there, I'm fine, if you're not ... "  
  
Root's eyes widened slightly at the words and she grabbed the other woman's hand, giving it the barest squeeze before releasing it.  
  
\- "Okay", she whispered, smiling warmly, "let's go home."  
  
\- "Yeah", Shaw acquiesced, shaking her head as if to dispel bad memories before grinning softly in return, "I'm starving."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back :-).
> 
> This story probably won't be updated as often as the previous one was, due to my writing time having slightly shrunk. I'll aim for one or two chapters per week, but expect them to be longer than the average in W(B)ttM. 
> 
> This chapter was mostly exposition and a bit of fluff, but these guys did earn a break. Next one will be titled "Brimstone" and will feature the team working a relevant number.


	2. Brimstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw and Fusco go undercover to investigate a relevant number.

**> > > MONITORING CURRENT EVENTS...**  
  
**-!- FLAG RAISED : event imminent -!-**  
  
**> > > ASSESSING EVENT NATURE... **  
  
**> > MONITORING TARGET AREA : New York city...**  
  
**-!- POSSIBLE DESTABILISING EVENT IDENTIFIED -!-**  
  
**> > EVENT CLASSIFICATION : RELEVANT.**  
  
**> > > CONTACTING ASSETS...**  
  


* * *

  
The room was dark and silent, the only light coming from either the monitors on the desk or the flickering red and green lights on the server racks occupying three out of four walls, the last one playing host to a magnetically locked reinforced door. In the middle of it all sat a simple desk, covered with neatly arranged computing equipment, and a single lonely figure sat on the only chair facing it all. Scratching his dirty white beard, Alfred Groft stared into the large computer screen in front of him, waiting as the lines of code slowly scrolled down, allowing him to check on his creation one more time.  
  
\- "The light shines in the darkness", he muttered to himself as a soft-spoken mantra, "and the darkness has not overcome it."  
  


* * *

  
Since their old subway hideout was out of commission, not to mention blown up to hell and probably on several governmental watch-lists owing to the alarmingly large number of bodies it had played host to lately, the Machine's small circle of New York primary assets had taken to meeting in Shaw and Root's apartment, much to the former's annoyance.  
  
\- "Okay", a short-fused Shaw started as she entered the makeshift living room slash headquarters, "Enough already. We're going to need to find a new base of operations ASAP. This just isn't doing it."  
  
As she spoke, she gestured toward the huge glass board Root and Fusco were busy setting up near the large window pane, presumably to stick stupid pictures and paper clippings to or something, obstructing the kick ass view in the process.  
  
\- "You all can take this party at my place if you like", Fusco offered with an apologetic shrug, "but I don't think I have enough electrical outlets for Cocoa Puffs's computer Frankenstein."  
  
\- "Frankenstein is the doctor, Lionel", Root corrected, "not the creature. So, in your analogy, I would be Frankenstein."  
  
\- "Figures", the detective mumbled as he finished screwing the glass panel to its frame.  
  
Ignoring the last remark, Root walked over to Shaw and affectionately rubbed the other woman's arms up and down, giving her one of her pleading heart-eyed looks.  
  
\- "Sorry Sameen", she apologised, "but we do need a base of operations, even if it's only temporary. She's scouting potential locations for us as we speak, this", she gestured to Fusco rumaging through a case containing some of what they had salvaged of Finch's files, "won't last for long."  
  
\- "It's fine", Shaw grunted softly and unconvincingly, "whatever."  
  
Root quickly gave her companion a peck on the lips before turning back to Fusco.  
  
\- "So, Lionel, care to introduce our new number ?"  
  
\- "Sure thing doc' ", Fusco agreed, slapping a heavy police file on the coffee table and retrieving the photograph of a bald elderly man with a scruffy white beard, "Crazy and Crazyer, meet Alfred Groft, tech mogul extraordinaire during the late seventies to eighties, worked on a bunch of stuff I didn't understand then disappeared into thin air during the nineties. For all the department knows, that guy hasn't left his penthouse suit downtown in twenty years."  
  
\- "And yet", Root completed, "it seems our man has been busy creating a new virtual life for himself since then. The Machine nudged me towards seven different website, registered in various... questionable countries who all seem to be regularly updated from Mr. Groft's internet connection. Wanna guess the thing all of these have in common ? Apart from obnoxiously bad css style sheets, I mean..."  
  
\- "Root", Shaw grunted, "Ditch the nerd talk already. So, grandpa here lives alone in his room for twenty years and has a hobby which I'm going to assume, despite what common sense might suggest, isn't porn. What is it, then ?"  
  
\- "Doom and gloom", the hacker replied, her face grim, "He's been preaching the collapse of our society through a mass technological extinction for some time now."  
  
\- "You mean like what Glasses did when he killed the internet ?", Fusco asked, "Don't get me wrong, but I don't really remember anyone giving a crap two weeks after the fact."  
  
\- "And yet", Root countered with a frown, "Groft's number came up as relevant. Meaning that whatever is going to happen might very well be the real deal. Or, maybe it has nothing to do with his pet obsession, but somehow I doubt that."  
  
\- "So you think this guy is planning an actual cyber-apocalypse ?", Shaw enquired, "Seems far fetched for some old guy locked away in a cave somewhere, no ?"  
  
\- "I really don't know, Sameen. But the Machine seems worried about it, therefore so should we."  
  
\- "All right chief", Fusco cut in, "What do we do then ?"  
  
Root took out her phone, beckoning her friends closer to the display where a satellite map of the area around Groft's building was shown.  
  
\- "Our first order of business", she announced, "is to find out exactly what is going on in there."  
  


* * *

  
The two dark-clothed figures emerged easily went through security, their garb and carried leaflets only eliciting a curt nod from the guard as they went trough the metal detector, which a software glitch rendered conveniently unable to detect the rather suspicious equipment their were concealing on themselves and in their heavy suitcases. After that, they both boarded the elevator, where a green light flashed, indicating they were clear to start their long ascension to the penthouse.  
  
\- "Okay Root", Shaw growled in a low voice, "this time, I _am_ going to end you."  
  
No answer came. Right, the former agent remembered, Faraday cage. She felt strangely alone, not being to hear the tall hacker's voice on a whim like she had grown used to.  
  
\- "Cocoa Puffs can't hear you where we're goin' ", Fusco offered uselessly, "and besides, black is your colour, isn't it ?"  
  
The detective was wearing a dark suit, whereas Shaw had been forced into a long, modest black dress that felt like she was being swallowed whole by a boa constrictor, a fact not helped by the three handguns and hand grenade she had insisted on concealing on her person.  
  
\- "One more word, Lionel", she threatened, "and I guarantee you'll be having your own private Apocalypse."  
  
\- "Hey, calm down there Mrs Smith", Fusco held up his hands, "I'm stuck in this bullshit cover same as you. I mean, if anyone had told me I'd pose as a Jehovah witness with you as my number two..."  
  
Root had insisted Groft's background made this particular cover their best bet to get inside the man's penthouse flat. Indeed, the former tech mogul had been associating with several sects within the Jehovah Witnesses, obviously feeling a kinship to their millenarian beliefs, and was known to always keep his door open for their representatives, making this the ideal ploy to get close enough to set up rudimentary surveillance at the very heart of their number's domain.  
  
\- "Last time I posed as a religious extremist", Shaw reminisced aloud, grinning, "I blew a Taliban leader's brains out with a pickaxe."  
  
Fusco shot her a queasy look.  
  
\- "Remind never to swap stories with you then", he quietly mumbled, much to his companion's undisguised amusement.  
  
The elevator's door opened as a small chime resonated in the cramped space, and Shaw and Fusco entered an austere looking hallway, across which they could distinguish row after row of heavy reinforced doors with keypad locks. In front of them, emerging from and closing one of those, came a tall bald man with a long white beard. Alfred Groft walked with poise and surety, and was wearing an old-fashioned grey three-piece suit complete with a bow tie.  
  
\- "Friends", he said with a warm smile as he greeted them, "welcome to my humble abode. What can I do for you today ?"  
  
\- "Nothing in particular", Fusco said after a moment of hesitation, "We just wanted to pay our respects to a great benefactor to our cause."  
  
Given what Root had told them about the man's donations to the Jehovah Witnesses, such a social call could indeed be seen as well deserved.  
  
\- "Oh", Groft's smile widened, "I assure you this wasn't necessary. I'm sure there a plenty of misguided lambs that could use your word and time more than I. Besides, Thomas and Howard came by yesterday already, so you really needn't bother."  
  
Well, that had been one risk of that cover, Shaw pondered. Since Groft's building was fully equipped with CCTV, the Machine had had very little indication with regards to the comings and goings there.  
  
\- "We're... new in town", she offered in her most demure tone, "we really wanted to meet you, sir. You're such a good friend of the cause."  
  
Groft eyes shone with something different now, something slightly more sinister.  
  
\- "Well then", he said, "since you just arrived, you probably have met my good friend Emmett, haven't you ?"  
  
That question was obviously a trap, Shaw realised. Well, no chip on her shoulder, that cover had been a stupid idea from the start anyway. Time to get down to business. In one swift move, she unslung the compact Beretta she had hidden in the small of her back and pointed it at Groft, eliciting a gasp from Fusco.  
  
\- "Okay gramps", Shaw dead-panned, "Enough of this already. Start talking."  
  
\- "Oh, come on", the man almost pleaded, "are you really this stupid ?"  
  
Then there was a loud buzz, and Shaw felt her muscles tighten briefly in one painful spasm, then go slack as she went down, losing consciousness before she hit the ground.  
  


* * *

  
Several kilometres away, bend over one of computers, Root was getting restless. It was bad enough sending Shaw and Fusco away on a mission with mandatory comms silence, but they had been gone for hours now and had already missed their most pessimistic check-up time, meaning that things definitely hadn't gone according to plan.  
  
\- "You still can't see them ?", she asked aloud, waiting for the voice in her cochlear implant to reiterate what she had been saying for some time now.  
  
**Negative. It is extremely likely they have run into trouble.**  
  
\- "No kidding ?", Root mused bitterly as she got up and grabbed two handguns from the nearest secure cupboard, "Enough waiting, I'm going after them."  
  
**You'll never manage to rescue them alone. The odds of you successfully infiltrating...**  
  
\- "And yet", the hacker snapped as she put her leather jacket on and made for the door, "I just can't seem to care. Are You going to help or just keep up the C-3PO impression until I die of boredom ?"  
  
**Bathroom window, twelve seconds.**  
  
\- "Oh, come on", Root groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance before raising her voice to call on her impending intruder, "The stupid front door isn't even locked, Reginald !"  
  
A great clatter came from the flat's bathroom, seconds before a visibly surprised Baker emerged from it, dressed in simple black jeans, white T-shirt and leather jacket matching Root's.  
  
\- "Is there any possibility of sneaking up on you at all ?", he enquired with a raised brow.  
  
\- "No", Root impatiently shut him down, grabbing some car keys from the table, "There's a shotgun taped under the cupboard on your left, grab it."  
  
The former team leader obliged, deftly retrieving the fearsome looking weapon and a pouch of ammo from their hiding place with an appreciative nod.  
  
\- "Care to tell me where we're going ?", he asked as he followed Root who was crossing the apartment's threshold hurriedly, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible while holding a military grade combat shotgun in a tenement hallway.  
  
\- "You didn't brief him on the way in", the hacker muttered in displeasure without looking at her companion, "Do I look like Harold to You ?"  
  
\- "I didn't...", Baker started but was quickly cut by Root's annoyed reply.  
  
\- "I wasn't talking to you."  
  


* * *

  
In a flash of pain, Fusco realised he was now awake and tied to a chair in a brightly lit and clinically cold looking room, pain radiating through what he believed were every single one of his muscles, making him feel as if he had been hit by the father of all stun-guns, which was probably a good assessment of what had happened, since the device had almost certainly been concealed within the floor itself, waiting to be triggered remotely. Beside him, he noted Shaw was also conscious and evidently in the same predicament, although a trained eye could notice her fingers moving imperceptibly in a bid to free her from the metal clasps that kept her hands tied behind the chair's back.  
  
\- "I must say", Alfred Groft said as en entered the room, sealing the door behind him with an ominous and hermetic sounding hiss, "I am disappointed. I would have expected the government to send more... astute agents."  
  
\- "What gave us away ?", Fusco enquired sarcastically with a pointed glance at Shaw, "Was it the gun pointing or the threats ?"  
  
\- "None of it, actually", their captor stated with a slight shake of his head, "It was you, detective Fusco. See, my CCTV system is equipped with state-of-the-art facial recognition software which I designed to match any intruder with the very public, very accessible, law enforcement photograph databases."  
  
Shaw snorted in satisfaction as she heard Fusco's intended jab bite him back, causing Groft to turn toward her, his right index tapping softly on his upper lip.  
  
\- "You, on the other hand", he continued, "I can't seem to identify. Who are you working for, my dear, is it the NSA ? CIA ? Please tell me you're not IRS..."  
  
\- "She's SYA", Fusco bantered as Shaw seemed content to stare blankly at their number, "Screw Yourself Agency."  
  
Groft let out a dry laugh as he deftly drew a sharp looking little knife from his jacket interior, balancing its tip against a finger.  
  
\- "As amusing as all of this is", he said in a low voice, "I'm afraid I can't abide distraction at this critical stage. Since you came after me, it probably means you know the time is near, and so other will probably follow. I need you", he lowered himself at Shaw's eye level, slowly sliding the knife along her jaw line, ghosting her neck, "to tell me how many and when."  
  
\- "You think I'm afraid of being tortured by some old pervert ?", the former agent asked in disbelief.  
  
\- "Oh, I believe you'll find I make a reasonable case for myself", the man said with a sneer as he swiftly moved the knife up nicking Shaw's cheek and drawing blood without eliciting a single reaction from her.  
  
\- "I wouldn't do that if I were you", Fusco warned Groft with an upside-down smirk, "You're only going to make her angrier."  
  
The older man shot him a haughty look, his lips parting in a scornful expression.  
  
\- "And why exactly should I care ?", he asked evenly, "I don't think your friend is in any position to harm me, no matter how angry she gets."  
  
\- "Oh", the detective corrected, tilting his head in Shaw's direction, "I wasn't talking about her. See, if I were in your shoes, I'll worry about the other one."  
  


* * *

   
Root and Baker stopped their car a few paces down the road from the building housing Alfred Groft's penthouse, taking a few seconds to ponder over the place's floor plants on Root's phone and try to iron out a semblance of plan before they went in.  
  
\- "So", the man summed up, "the guy owns the entire building, but only uses the penthouse, yes ?"  
  
\- "Exactly", the hacker confirmed, "for all we could tell, the lower floors only house empty offices and cobwebs."  
  
\- "And the only way up is through the secured elevator in the main lobby", Baker frowned, "Isn't he required by law to have some sort a fire escape at least ?"  
  
Root pouted, scrolling to a new are of the digital map.  
  
\- "Here", she said in a defeated tone, tapping her finger on the screen, "twenty stories high enclosed shaft equipped with a ladder that can only be lowered from the penthouse itself. We're not getting in that way."  
  
\- "Groves, Groves", Baker made a derisive tutting sound, "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one here."  
  
\- "Your point ?", Root snapped, annoyed at her interlocutor's smug attitude. She didn't have time for games, not with Lionel and Sameen's lives on the line.  
  
The dark-haired man smiled brightly, a condescending light flickering in his eyes.  
  
\- "When", he asked as if talking to a particularly stubborn child, "does the ladder come down ?"

* * *

  
\- "What other one ?", Groft's voice cut through the room like a blade through flesh, "So, you do have backup incoming, detective ?"  
  
The bearded man quickly crossed the room in a couple rapid steps, now bending over Fusco's face.  
  
\- "Not 'backup', exactly", the detective blustered, making a point of staring his captor in the eyes, "more like a 'kicking your sorry ass all the way to the moon' kinda party."  
  
Pain flared in Fusco's thigh as Groft stabbed his small knife through it with a grunt of rage, twisting it in the wound.  
  
\- "No more games, you fat moron", he hissed through his teeth in venomous whisper, "Who sent you ? Who is coming after you and how do they intend to get past my security ?"  
  
\- "Jesus", Fusco groaned in pain, grinding his teeth, "Why does every guy I meet lately have a hard-on for stabbing me ?"  
  
With a disgusted sneer, Groft suddenly withdrew his knife from Fusco flesh, letting the detective gasping and bleeding on his chair.  
  
\- "It doesn't matter", the older man scoffed, "Whoever they are, they won't manage to get in here fast enough. The countdown has already started, you see ?", he then started to quote, a fervent fire dancing in his rheumy eyes, "For behold, the Lord will come in fire and His chariots like the whirlwind, to render His anger with fury, and His rebuke with flames of fire."  
  
\- "Fascinating", Shaw dead-panned, stealing a quick glance at Fusco who she evaluated was slowly going into shock, "Any specifics on how you intend to bring about the end of the world, grandpa ?"  
  
\- "Whoever trained you", Groft admonished softly with an index finger raised, "didn't teach how to properly fish for information, did they ?"  
  
\- "I don't know", the woman shrugged despite her restraints, "maybe I just got bored listening to them. I'm not good at receiving lectures."  
  
His attention now fully focused on Shaw, the bearded man turned away from a barely conscious Fusco and walked over to the short woman, resting the tip of his knife, still slick with the detective's blood, under her chin.  
  
\- "You should have paid attention my dear", he muttered in a soft, lecturing tone, "If you had, then..."  
  
Before Groft could finish his admonition, a chime resonated from an intercom on the wall by the door. With an apologetic smile that didn't reach his eyes, the man got up and went to the ringing device, picking it up.  
  
\- "Yes ?", he enquired, pausing as he listened to someone on the other end of the line, "Oh, very well... No, no, I can assure you that we are still very much on schedule... Yes, yes, I shall see to it."  
  
With that, he put the phone back on its support and pivoted on the spot, intent on resuming his earlier activities. As he did so, he found himself staring in the eyes of a grinning and very much free Sameen Shaw.  
  
\- "How ?", Groft blurted in surprise, momentarily stunned by the newly manifested threat.  
  
\- "Hairpin", Shaw stated matter-of-factly, before punching him hard in the face, dropping him on the floor, "Should have bought better cuffs, dumbass."  
  
As soon as she was was satisfied the bearded man wouldn't pose any threat in the foreseeable future, the short Persian woman quickly scrambled to Fusco's side and deftly freed him from his cuffs, noting that the detective was drifting in and out of consciousness. Grunting, Shaw slapped him hard across the face, eliciting a yelp of pain.  
  
\- "Ow !", Fusco yelled, "What was that for ?!"  
  
\- "You need to stay conscious Lionel", Shaw explained, "that idiot missed the artery but you've still lost a bit of blood. Come on, keep pressure on it, we need to move."  
  
\- "You know", the detective groaned in pain as he got up, one hand bunching up his jacket against the wound, the other holding onto his companion for support, "I would be okay with not making a habit out of this."  
  
\- "Agreed", the short woman shot him an encouraging grin, "I don't think my back would survive having to lug you around on a regular basis."  
  
They limped toward the door, noticing it was hermetically shut and required a code to entered on a keypad to open.  
  
\- "Just great", Shaw complained with a roll of her eyes, "where's the giant nerd when you need her ?"  
  
This was the moment the fire alarm started blaring.  
  


* * *

  
If one was being completely fair to all parties involved, one would have to acknowledge that the Machine and Root did see the fire escape as a possible way inside Groft's penthouse. However, since the ladder was set up to be automatically released if and only if the fire alarm was triggered, and knowing the building's entire security system was completely offline, they had discarded the idea as impractical. After all, being unable to trip the alarm remotely, they would have had to either go in and do it manually, which would have been a risky proposition at best and easily foiled or...  
  
Or, they would have to, as Baker had so eagerly proposed, start an _actual_ fire.  
  
\- "I've got to say, Reginald", Root observed with a shit-eating grin as she watched the former operative arm Reese's former grenade launcher they had retrieved from the trunk of their car, "I may be starting to warm up to you."  
  
\- "Yeah", the man replied non-committally, "Incendiary grenades will do that."  
  
When he had finally finished setting his weapon up, Baker started to take aim from their hiding spot in a flat across the street from Groft's building whose occupants the Machine had assured them were away on vacation.  
  
\- "Remember", Root warned him, "we do not want to actually burn the place down, just trigger the alarm."  
  
\- "Yeah, yeah", Baker dismissed her concern as he closed one eye, concentrating on his target, "Don't sweat it, I'm not gonna roast your girlfriend... Well, unless you nag me bad enough to give me an inclination to."  
  
\- "Manners, Reggie", the woman chided him, her face scrunched up, "Remember I'm the only person alive that still tolerates talking to you."  
  
\- "Fair enough", the dark-haired former agent conceded as he pressed the trigger, watching with satisfaction as his projectile crashed through an eighth floor window, immediately sparking a fiery blaze. Soon, alarms were ringing all over the twenty stories building while Root and Baker quickly scrambled to the base of the fire escape.  
  
\- "I'll take point", Baker announced as he looked up the uninviting ladder which seemed to stretch up to infinity.  
  
\- "Please", Root scoffed as she elbowed her way past him, starting to climb without skipping a beat, "I escaped from you in a wheelchair. I don't trust you to handle the bad guys up there on your own."  
  
\- "You're just being unfair now", the former team leader grumbled as he followed suit, "You had help, and a chopper."  
  
\- "Wouldn't know", the hacker's lip parted slightly, "I was unconscious at the time, courtesy of your old pal Ethan."  
  
Root tried not to think too much about the smug ISA torturer as she made her way along the treacherously high ladder. Now was not the time for such a trip down torture-memory lane.  
  
\- "Belford was a grade A douchebag", Baker said evenly, much to his companion's unspoken and pleasant surprise, "I actually wanted to send you a fruit basket for killing him."  
  
\- "I like apples", Root was smiling now, her playful self again.  
  
\- "Duly noted."

* * *

  
With a loud snap, Shaw finally cracked open the door's access keypad using Groft's small knife, trying to find something in there she could to short-circuit. She knew her way around most standard security systems, and even some less standard ones, but this one seemed to operate on a whole new level. Soon, she was growling in frustration, jabbing the knife repeatedly against the wall in anger.  
  
\- "Why can't this bloody alarm shut up", she said in a long grumble, "God, this is annoying."  
  
\- "Yeah", Fusco agreed, leaning against the wall, still compressing his leg wound while keeping an eye on Groft's prone form, "must be one hell of a fire to keep it going this long. Like, three, four alarm or somethin'."  
  
Shaw smiled to herself as she heard those last words. At least, if she got out of there alive, she'd have something funny to distract Root with.

* * *

  
When she reached the top of the ladder, Root immediately made her way inside the penthouse, going through the now unlocked fire brigade access, and swept the nearby area for threat. As Baker fell in beside her, they soon made sure that the well-lit hallway they were in, which still resonated with the blaring sound of the fire alarm, was devoid of any security, not even possessing a single security camera. It did, however, harbour a dozen or so hermetic-looking steel doors equipped with keypad operated locks.  
  
\- "Fun", Root sighed, "Now we get to play hide and seek with the bad guys."  
  
\- "What do you think ?", Baker asked, "We split up, diametrically opposed bust-and-shoot ?"  
  
\- "Works for me", his companion nodded as she handed him a small wireless device the size of a USB thumb drive, "Use this to hack through the keypads, shouldn't be a problem."  
  
As they spread out, one at each end of the corridor, they started opening doors and clearing the associated rooms, at first only encountering storage closets and server racks, until Baker called on Root.  
  
\- "Groves ?", his voice was even and business-like, yet betraying a slight unease, "You probably should come over here."  
  
Root quickly made her way to the man's position, trying hard to suppress her anxiety and the million horrible thoughts her brain seemed intent on conjuring every second of the way.  Had he found Shaw and Fusco ? Were they hurt ? Worse ? She almost let out a sigh of relief when she entered a dimly lit room, empty except for several server racks and a computer station. Then she noticed the automated code being executed on the screen and froze.  
  
\- "Crap", she uttered, quickly making her way to the computer, "it's almost ready to run."  
  
\- "What is ?", Baker enquired.  
  
\- "I don't know exactly, and since this place is built as a Faraday cage I won't be getting any answers right now", Root's hands started typing furiously on the keyboard in front of her as she pulled the local system logs, trying to make sense of it all, "But it looks bad, like ICE-9 on steroids bad. I have to stop this, Reginald, and I need you to keep looking for Fusco and Shaw. Can you do that ?"  
  
\- "Five by five", the dark-haired man acquiesced as he left the room, leaving the hacker alone with what liked more and more like a virtual doomsday device.  
  
  
The code was like nothing Root had ever seen, brilliantly written, elegant and deadly, monstrously so. The virus Groft was getting ready to unleash appeared to be based on ICE-9's source code, albeit with several alterations she guessed were aimed at wreaking even worse havoc on the global networked infrastructure. Should this plague ever leave the building, she realised, it could very well take down all but the most secured infrastructures, sending the world back several dozen years in one fell swoop. Digital Apocalypse indeed.  
  
As she continued her study of the code, Root realised that a timer had been set to unleash the virus, and that it was nearing completion. Moreover, the entire thing was locked using biometric data belonging to Groft himself, meaning that nothing could prevent this scourge from being unleashed without the man.  
  
Well, nothing _she_ could do anyway.  
  
Since this was a cyber-emergency type of situation, Root had left her flat packing a small USB drive packing the latest version of the 'Baby Machine' worm, which she quickly whipped out of her jacket pocket and inserted into the nearest port, holding her breath.  
  
\- "Guess it's up to You now", she murmured.  
  


* * *

  
**# Boot sequence initiated...**  
  
**# Decompressing kernel... done.**  
  
**# Scanning local system for threats...**  
  
**-!- Malware detected, type : ICE-9 fork -!-**  
  
**# Purging local system...**

* * *

  
It took only a couple minutes for the worm to wipe every single server in the penthouse clean, a time which Root and Baker used to finish clearing the remaining rooms and physically unplugging server racks as soon as the program was done rendering them useless. One could never be too careful with those things. Finally, when they were on their last door to hack in, Root took a deep breath. The fire brigade had almost certainly cordoned the area off by this point, meaning Groft, Fusco and Shaw couldn't have left the building, and so had to be in there. The question was, in which state was she going to find them ?  
  
What she hadn't expected was to find herself suddenly grabbed, pinned to a wall and held at knife point by a pissed-looking Shaw as she opened the door.  
  
\- "Hey sweetie", she croaked as the other woman held her against the wall with one arm, a sharp blade held at her throat while a quickly reacting Baker levelled his shotgun in reflex, "Enjoying the four alarm fire ?"  
  
Realisation suddenly flashed in Shaw's eyes and she immediately let go of Root, tucking the knife away so she could hold the other woman's shoulders, discretely rubbing her own thumbs up and down in an instinctive gesture of comfort.  
  
\- "Shit, Root", she said, "Did I hurt you ?"  
  
The tall hacker smiled at her companion's subtle yet obvious display of affection. They had been making great strides in their relationship lately, and Root enjoyed the hell out of it.  
  
\- "It's okay, Sameen", she reassured her, "Nothing I can't handle", then she nodded to Baker's still raised shotgun, "Reginald, please, there's no need to assert your virility in such a puerile way. Put that down."  
  
\- "You're both mad", the man shook his head as he lowered his weapon.  
  
\- "I was expecting company", Shaw explained, "and not the good kind."  
  
\- "Well, it doesn't look like that place has much security", Root shrugged, the other woman's hands still on her shoulders, "How's Lionel ?"  
  
This prompted Shaw to finally break contact with her, letting Root take a step inside the small room, and find Fusco still conscious but looking very pale and Groft passed out on the floor.  
  
\- "Hey there Cocoa Puffs", the detective greeted her in a tired voice, leaning against the wall, then his voice turned dour as he noticed Baker standing by the threshold, "I see you brought my pal the psychopath along, how nice."  
  
\- "I guess you have an interesting tale to tell", the hacker mused with a glance at Shaw.  
  
\- "Yeah, you too", the short Persian answered as she went over to Fusco, noting with satisfaction that the bleeding from his leg had stopped, "like for example, why the hell is he", she tilted her head towards Baker, "here ?"  
  
\- "Weren't you the one who told me never to go in without backup ?", Root pouted, "She contacted him, thought he might be useful."  
  
\- "Guess we'll have a talk about it later then", Shaw suggested, gesturing to Groft's still form, "Right now, we need to wrap up this mess."  
  


* * *

  
Later that night, after leaving Groft tied up in his penthouse to be picked up by the FBI agents the Machine had summoned to the location, Shaw properly patched Fusco up before sending him home and meeting Root back at their apartment. There, she found the tall brunette waiting for her by the kitchen counter, a mug of tea in her hand.  
  
\- "Hey", Shaw said as she closed the door behind her, "Baker gone already ?"  
  
\- "He knows he's not exactly welcome here, Sameen", Root explained, "Still, I'm not sure what we're going to do with him, especially since She seems to have plan for the man. He was an asset of Hers after all..."  
  
\- "Up to me", the Persian woman grunted, "I'd just shoot his ass full of holes. But hey, whatever Her Robot Highness decides."  
  
\- "Lionel okay ?", the hacker asked as Shaw slipped out of her shoes, making her way to the other woman.  
  
\- "He's fine. The old bastard couldn't even stab him properly. He'll probably limp for a couple days but that's it."  
  
Root smiled warmly, happy to hear their friend was going to be all right. But then her face turned sour as she took the time to examine Shaw's face, noticing for the first time the shallow cut across her cheek. Instinctively, she took her hand to the smaller woman's face, running her thumb across the light wound.  
  
\- "He hurt you", she said with a grim expression on her face, "I should have hurt him too."  
  
\- "Root", Shaw said firmly as she grabbed both the hacker's wrists, "I'm fine, it's just a cut. Besides, I paid the bastard back just fine by myself."  
  
\- "Still. No one hurts my girl but me."  
  
Shaw noticed Root was starting to make that one face she didn't like, that hurt-Root face she wanted to wipe from the face of the Earth so badly she could feel her stomach knot just thinking about it. So she decided to act quickly before it was too late and fiercely caught the other woman's lips into her own, kissing the hurt away. They went at it for several minutes, only pausing briefly to catch their breath or, in Root's case, try to articulate useless innuendos. Then, when they were both satisfied the other one was going to be fine, they made their way to their bedroom, where they forgot the rest of the world even existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, the updates will come at a slower rate over the Summer. Sorry about that. 
> 
> You should also expect this story to start a little slower than the previous one. 
> 
> Next chapter will be called "New Parameters".


	3. New Parameters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Machine tries to identify the new player behind Groft's attempt to unleash a deadly virus.

**> >  > ANALYSING RETRIEVED CODE (identifier : ICE-10)...**  
  
** > > MATCH FOUND : 7852 lines similar to stored code snippet.**  
  
** > > INITIALISING > >FINE PATTERN MATCHING...**   


* * *

  
The office building was empty, as was to be expected of a Manhattan software company at three in the morning, and Sameen Shaw couldn't help but be glad of that fact. Mainly because, had the place been full of people, somebody probably would have taken offence to her and the five men in navy blue suits shooting the place up like  there was no tomorrow. The former agent was crouching, keeping her head low as she ducked from one bullet-riddled cubicle to the next, exchanging suppressive fire with her opponents.  
  
\- "I'm gonna need backup over there", she called evenly through her earpiece as she noticed half a dozen more men emerging from a nearby stairwell, guns at the ready, "before next week would be nice."  
  
The renewed onslaught of gunfire forcing her out of her precarious cover, Shaw skidded across the nearest open expense, pressing herself against a concrete pillar from which she started returning fire, intermittently popping out of cover to force the thugs to keep their head down lest they lost a kneecap of two. Her instincts honed by her countless missions and rigorous training regime, she felt an opening present itself when two of her foes decided to try a cross-sweep of the room, simultaneously breaking cover without even bothering to overlap their firing arcs. 

_Amateurs_.  
  
Her whole body tensing like a spring ready to be released, Shaw mentally counted the seconds before the two men would be unable to support each other efficiently, planning to drop at least one of them before anyone could react. But then, mere moments before she made her move, she heard a door being kicked open and a veritable hail of gunfire erupt from behind her, immediately hitting her two targets in the kneecaps and forcing their companions to duck back deeper into cover. Shaw didn't need to turn her head to see the cocky grin that was plastered across the newcomer's face as she swiftly ducked into cover with her, unnecessarily pressing their bodies together.  
  
\- "Hi Shaw", the saccharine voice teased as lips brushed her ear.  
  
\- "Root", Shaw dead-panned back with a roll of her eyes, "What are you doing here ?"  
  
\- "You called for backup", the taller woman explained as she popped out of their hiding place to take a few scarily well aimed shot at the men in suits with her two handguns, "I was closest, so She sent me."  
  
\- "You're not backup", Shaw groaned as she imitated her companion, hitting one man just above the knee, "you're just annoying."  
  
\- "Come one Sameen", Root cooed while playfully biting her lower lip, "you know I'm the best backup you could ever ask for", she emphasized her point by nonchalantly shooting one of their assailants in the shoulder without taking her eyes off the other woman, "and definitely the sexier."  
  
\- "You're just a show-off", came the grunted reply, "and you're not even _that_ hot."  
  
\- "We both know you're lying."  
  
Another thug thumped to the ground as Shaw deftly shot him in the right foot.  
  
\- "Root", the short Persian growled in menace, "We talked about that, remember ? We don't mention that any more."  
  
\- "Actually", the hacker smiled as she expertly dispatched two more men at once, hitting each one in their respective left kneecap, "I don't remember you doing much talking. Moaning, absolutely, but talking ? Not so much."  
  
\- "Root !"  
  
\- "You know what, Shaw ?", the tall brunette's smile was in full shit-eating mode now, "I like hearing you scream my name."  
  
Shaw shook her head. She wanted to hate the annoying hacker so much and yet found she couldn't quite get there. That was a problem, one that she had hoped would go away once...  
  
\- "Only four left", Root informed her, "I think we can dispense with the foreplay now."  
  
\- "Agreed."  
  
The two women shot out of their cover, weapons blazing away at the now retreating private security force that had been hired to plant falsified evidence tying their number of the day to the murder of his wife, and put the issue to rest.  


* * *

  
Root and Shaw exited the building after discreetly tipping the NYPD through Fusco that they would find a lot of interesting stuff within, and started to walk away in silence, the short former operative doing her best no to notice the blatant shoulder bumps her companion kept giving her.  
  
\- "So", Root asked, "where to now ? Hungry maybe ?"  
  
Shaw almost smiled at that, because, yes, she was hungry as hell. But then, she stopped and remembered she had swore to herself this would never happen. She was _not_ having dinner with Root, not after she had done to her. Seeing the other woman had continued walking despite her brief brain freeze, she quickly caught up with her, getting on her right side.  
  
\- "I have to go back", she said dismissively, "and you probably have to disappear somewhere stupid, don't you ?"  
  
Root didn't answer, her expression unmoving.  
  
\- "So what", Shaw smiled testily after a few seconds of silence, "I won't go to dinner with you so I get the silent treatment ? I thought you had thicker skin than that."  
  
Still no answer. Did Root really get that much of a kick out of pissing her off ? And why did it work so well ?  
  
\- "Hey, Root !", Shaw snapped, a bit louder this time, "I'm talking to you over there !"  
  
The tall hacker suddenly stopped, a befuddled expression flashing over her face quickly before disappearing, replaced by an apologetic and unsettlingly sorrowful one that made Shaw feel weird for some reason.  
  
\- "Sorry Sameen", Root's voice sounded almost earnestly contrite, much to Shaw's surprise, "I'm afraid my circumstances have... changed slightly."  
  
With that, she slowly parted her hair away from her right ear, revealing the discreet bandage situated just below it. Tentatively and probably out of some instinct she didn't understand, Shaw extended her hand and reached to Root's right earlobe with two fingers, ghosting above the small piece of gauze almost tenderly.  
  
\- "What happened ?", she asked softly, her expression unreadable.  
  
\- "Your former boss", Root explained in a small voice, continuing to smile sadly, "Control. Nice lady, really, with interesting hobbies."  
  
\- "What did she do to you ?", Shaw gritted her teeth and felt anger flare through her chest at the thought of the person that had betrayed her. And, inexplicably, at the thought of that person hurting Root. She hadn't seen the other woman since learning of her escape from the ISA a week ago, so she'd had no idea what had transpired then.  
  
\- "She shot me full of drugs for a while, which was distracting but ultimately boring", Root's lip went from a smile to a pout, her eyes still filled with something that looked like regret, "then she decided to give me a free stapedectomy just for kicks."  
  
_Stapedectomy_. With her medical background, Shaw needed no explanation as to what the procedure was about, and understood immediately why Root had been seemingly ignoring her earlier. She felt stupid, insensitive, something she was not accustomed to at all. She didn't do regret, and she never apologised.  
  
In that case, why was she still feeling bad ?  
  
\- "Root...", she started, not even sure what she wanted to say.  
  
\- "It's okay, Shaw", Root said tenderly, resting her hand on Shaw's own, which was still hovering above her right cheek, "I still have a lot to thank you for. Actually, I'd love to get the chance to, some day."  
  
The strange moment Root and Shaw had been sharing  dissipated as quickly as it had begun, their hands quickly disentangling and the two women resuming their walk.  
  
\- "You can't tell Finch, you know", Shaw said, "He can't find out I was the one who..."  
  
\- "Don't worry", Root reassured her warmly, all playfulness gone from her voice, "As far as Harry is concerned, I broke out of his cage with my own two hands. By the way, Shaw...", the hacker's voice trailed in hesitation and she turned to the other woman, hazel eyes meeting brown ones with intensity, "you never told me why you did it."  
  
There was another moment of quiet between the two women were they simply stared into each other's eyes, unsure of what they were looking for there and of what they might actually find.  
  
\- "I don't know", Shaw broke the silence and her gaze fluttered away, "and now I think maybe I should have left you there. That way..."  
  
\- "If you hadn't freed me", Root cut her, "You would be dead, and Harold would have been the one getting tortured instead of me. Can you imagine that ?"  
  
\- "He never would have made it", Shaw nodded grimly, "Still, I... I mean I probably should have come for you sooner."  
  
\- "Oh, Sameen, are you admitting you have a soft spot for me ?", was the teasing reply, draining some of the tension away, "I'm touched."  
  
They both stopped, having reached the building across the street from the library. Shaw turned to Root expectantly, not exactly sure why the words were leaving her lips.  
  
\- "Will you be gone again ?"  
  
\- "Be careful, Shaw", the tall brunette teased, "A girl might get the idea you care."  
  
\- "Just answer the damn question Root."  
  
\- "Probably", the hacker acknowledged sadly, "Take care, Sam, and give my best to Bear."  
  
Without a word, Shaw turned back and made her way to the library, trying very hard to suffocate the thing that was screaming inside her head at seeing Root look so lonely and fragile.  


* * *

    
Finch was waiting for Shaw as she entered the library, typing away on his computer as he always seemed to do. By his feet, Bear suddenly got up with an excited yip and ran toward Shaw, who immediately crouched down to pet him, even spending a few seconds baby-talking the Belgian Malinois. After all, everyone could be allowed one soft spot, couldn't they ? And hers was definitely Bear.  
  
And _only_ Bear.  
  
\- "Ms. Shaw", Finch greeted her as he swivelled his chair to face with his usual awkward stiffness, "I take it backup wasn't necessary after all ?"  
  
\- "You could say that", the former agent grunted as she got up again, making for the shelf where the bourbon was kept, "Thanks for nothing by the way."  
  
\- "I'm sorry", her companion said evenly, "but Mr. Reese was otherwise occupied dealing with a particularly non-compliant mob hitman. I will tell him not to bother checking up on you when he's done, then."  
  
\- "Yeah, you do that Harold", Shaw muttered dismissively as she poured herself a large glass of Finch's top shelf bourbon and took a sip from it.  
  
\- "Something on your mind, Ms. Shaw ?"  
  
God, sometimes the man was way to perceptive for his own good.  
  
\- "I'm a sociopath Harold", Shaw pointed out, "I don't have stuff on my mind."  
  
\- "Still", Finch insisted, his brow furrowing, "you look preoccupied."  
  
\- "Yeah, well", the short woman snapped as she emptied her glass in one last gulp and knocked it on the table, "I almost got shot by a band of jerkoffs in suits and I haven't eaten for six hours, so, yeah, maybe I'm a little off my game. But, hey, I guess that's what we do now, isn't it ? Abandon people on the field like they mean nothing", she paused, shaking her head at her own words, "If there's nothing else, I'll be heading out now."  
  
With that, she walked out of the library, leaving Finch wondering what exactly had happened that could unsettle the usually stoic woman so much.  


* * *

The next morning, John Reese was sitting at the terrace of a coffee shop, watching the new number he had been assigned from above the rim of his paper cup, slowly drinking the tepid and overpriced beverage. The man was named Jonah Williamson and was low-level defence contractor who nevertheless possessed a few sensitive clearances, meaning he was a very tempting target for blackmail. For the moment, though, he was obliviously texting someone Reese assumed was his girlfriend, given the nature of the exchange he watched unfold through the bluejacking app on his phone.  
  
\- "Thanks", Shaw said as she grabbed Reese's cup from his hands, plopping on the chair in front of him and taking a sip, her face instantly splitting in a grimace of disgust, "God, that his awful."  
  
\- "Hello to you too, Shaw", Reese dead-panned as the woman slid him back his beverage, "You know what you just did would be considered as rude by most people, don't you ?"  
  
The short woman groused, her eyes narrowing as she watched her co-worker painstakingly wipe the rim of his cup before drinking again from him.  
  
\- "Get over it, you big baby."  
  
\- "Well, someone is grumpy today", Reese noted, remembering Finch's earlier warning that Shaw had appeared "more communicative than usual in her mood swings". Except he knew very well Shaw's mood didn't swing, she was either angry or very angry, depending on the time of day.  
  
\- "Oh, come on", Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance, "don't go all Harold on me, okay ? I've had a shitty day yesterday, that's all."  
  
\- "I'm not going to lie, I'm not exactly having the best week either", Reese said softly, Carter's death still fresh in his mind despite his recent decision to reunite with the team, "Wanna grab a bear after this to not talk about it ?"  
  
Shaw gave him an expressionless look, as she usually did.  
  
\- "No offence, Reese", she replied, "but I'm gonna need something stronger than beer for this. My engine only runs on diesel, and right now it's about ready to stall. And, if I'm being honest, I'm really just hitching to shoot someone."  
  
In front of her, Reese's eyes widened as he briefly pondered whether or not there was a situation in which his short-fused co-worker would actually consider using him for that kind of tension relief.  
  
\- "Not you", Shaw corrected with an impatient eye-roll, "You're cool, I like you. A bit grumpy, but cool."  
  
\- "I'm a bit grumpy ?", Reese's eyes were now round with disbelief.  
  
\- "Yeah, you're a bit mopy sometimes", his companion explained, oblivious to the man's reaction, "I mean, I can't really blame you, your life sucks, but still."  
  
There was a short silence during which a puzzled Reese tried to make sense of what had just happened.  
  
\- "I guess this is your version of a pep talk ?"  
  
Shaw grinned as she leaned back into her chair, keeping the number in the corner of her eyes.  
  
\- "Take it or leave it", she acknowledged with a hint of playfulness.  
  
Shaking his head to try and regain some focus, Reese decided to take advantage of the woman's slightly more talkative than usual disposition to try and get to the bottom of whatever had upset Finch the night before.  
  
\- "So", he started tentatively, "as a hypothetical... Is there someone you would in particular you would like to shoot right now ?"  
  
\- "Yeah", Shaw snorted as if the whole thing was obvious, "Harold, for starters."  
  
\- "Why him ?", Reese raised an eyebrow, noting that Finch may have actually been right to be worried.  
  
\- "Really ?", the short Persian seemed utterly amazed at her companion's lack of understanding, "I mean, I've worked with and for a lot of weird people, don't get me wrong, I'm usually pretty good at not minding stuff, but don't you think that lately the man has been a little out of whack ?"  
  
\- "Anything in particular I should have noticed ?"  
  
Shaw shot Reese a look that was both almost completely blank and yet very subtly expressive, her head cocked on the side as if trying to process how the man could be both so perceptive and yet so blind to what was going on around him.  
  
\- "Well", she decided to explain, "for starters he left me without backup yesterday. Bad move for a team leader, moronic risk taking. And, believe me, it was even worse while you were gone. Sometimes, I get the sense the man doesn't really give a shit if we live or die."  
  
\- "Actually", Reese interjected, "he's got a point. We do a dangerous job, Shaw, one we may be required to lay down our lives for. Finch understands that."  
  
\- "Oh", Shaw gestured irritatingly, "don't lecture me about self-sacrifice. I know we're all probably gonna die stupidly in the end, that's not the point. The point is, a good leader doesn't take useless risk, and doesn't ask his subordinates to. And... There's also that other thing..."  
  
The woman stopped, letting the silence hang for a minute as Reese waited expectantly, still keeping half an eye on their positively boring number.  
  
\- "What other thing Shaw ?", he pressed on, snapping her back to reality.  
  
\- "I mean", Shaw hesitated, looking unsure, which Reese was pretty sure was a first, making him dread to behold something that could rattle his stoic companion, "I've seen fucked up things, worked for fucked up people, but... Come on... Who keeps a pet human in a cage ?"  
  
\- "Root ?", Reese blurted in befuddlement, "This is about Root ?"  
  
\- "It's not about Root", his interlocutor grunted with dismissive anger, "it's about the principle. Aren't we supposed to be the good guys, or whatever ? Not that I care, but I'd like to be notified if we're allowed to keep house slaves all of a sudden. Could be handy."  
  
Frowning, Reese chose to disregard the flippant and obvious deflection.  
  
\- "Shaw", he explained slowly, "there were extenuating circumstances. We couldn't trust that woman, still can't actually, and now she's in the wild, doing God knows what. Doesn't that unsettle you a little bit ? Don't you wonder whether the world wouldn't be a safer place if she was still locked up ?"  
  
\- "Then why not kill her ?", Shaw shrugged stiffly, "Put a bullet through her head, call it a day ? If you're so sure she's a menace, why not take care of it ?"  
  
\- "We can't just murder people on principle."  
  
\- "But keeping them in a cage for the rest of their lives is okay ?", Shaw snapped, her temper flaring despite herself, "Besides, how can you be so sure she's a threat ? You do realise she actually saved our collective asses twice already ? And besides, isn't Harold supposed to be the one trusting that Machine of his with our lives ?"  
  
There was no anger in Reese's answer, but maybe a tinge of irritation and, Shaw fancied, maybe slight amusement.  
  
\- "And aren't you supposed to be the one hating Root ?"  
  
Touché, Shaw thought, wondering what the hell had been happening in her head lately. But before she could find a suitably cutting remark to end this uncomfortable conversation on, both she and Reese heard tires screeching and people yelling had a sudden commotion erupted around their number, three men in ski masks dragging the hapless contractor to a just arrived tan van, much to his protestations.  
  
\- "Shit", Reese swore as he got up, whirling toward the new arrivals, his gun already drawn at the hip. Yet, there were too many bystanders around to risk taking a shot, so he followed Shaw's lead when she started running across the terrace, hoping to intercept the kidnappers before they could make their escape.  
  
Distracted as they had been by their conversation, they were too late to stop their number from being abducted in broad daylight and could only watch helplessly as the van sped away, panicked New Yorkers all around starting to call 911.  
  
\- "Gotta say", Shaw growled under her breath as she watched the vehicle disappear into a side street with an annoyed tilt of her head, "you're the worst shrink ever."  


* * *

  
When he got the news Williamson had been kidnapped right under his operatives' noses, Finch was of course apoplectic, launching himself, much to Shaw's undisguised weariness, into a tirade on the importance on bringing their number back to safety as efficiently as possible. So, both she and Reese immediately set out looking for any possible clue as to where the danger could be coming from by breaking into the man's apartment while Fusco ran the van's plates in the forlorn hope they weren't fake.  
  
\- "It's hopeless Finch", Reese complained in his earpiece as he flipped open yet another cupboard full of unremarkable paraphernalia, "there's nothing here even hinting at foul play."  
  
\- "And Mr. Williamson's digital footprint appears to be best characterised as aggressively normal", Finch concurred over their comms, "What about the girlfriend ? Maybe she can shed some light on the situation."  
  
\- "We called her office", Shaw volunteered, "She's been catering a reception in Belize for the last four days. I don't think she'll be of any help Harold."  
  
\- "Then I guess you're lucky I'm here."  
  
Upon hearing the new voice behind them, both Reese and Shaw instantly pivoted on the spot, their guns aimed at the new arrival, who seemed to find the whole situation incredibly entertaining.  
  
\- "Root", Shaw rolled her eyes.  
  
\- "Root", Reese let out in a low voice, his jaw tightening.  
  
\- "Me", Root confirmed happily, tilting her head on her left side, "And how are the Mayhem Twins doing today ?"  
  
\- "Is Ms. Groves...", Finch started to ask in their comms before both of his employees simultaneously cut the communication, each murmuring some equivalent of "later, Harold".  
  
The tense silence dragged on for about a minute more, before Shaw decided that since Root didn't seem to be armed and time felt like it was running short, she should take it upon herself to act as the grown up of the group and clicked her safety on, lowering her gun.  
  
\- "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Shaw", Root said with what could very well have been a genuine smile before turning her gaze to Reese, "Your move, Lurch."  
  
With an audible groan, the man put away his own weapon, shooting Shaw a look that clearly conveyed the fact that he would hold her responsible should things go pear-shaped.  
  
\- "Why did you come to us, Root ?", Reese asked coldly, returning his gaze to the tall hacker who was now leaning on the nearest door frame, appearing completely relaxed despite the obviously still charged air between the three people in the room.  
  
\- "I heard you guys lost a number", Root said with an exaggeratedly sad-looking pout, "so I decided to come to your help. A gesture of good faith, if you will."  
  
\- "Root ?", Shaw arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying the tale that was being spun by the other woman, who immediately cast her eyes downward to her feet, looking chastened.  
  
\- "Okay", she admitted, "She sent me here to help you", her gaze went mischievous as she glanced up once more with a smirk, "But that still counts, right ?"  


* * *

  
Half an hour later, the trio followed Root's directions to a vast expense of dockside property devoted to the storage of cargo containers. They slowly made their way across it, careful to avoid being seen despite the bright midday sun, aided by the Machine's instructions relayed through her newly minted analogue interface. Weaving around the hulking metal crates, Root, Reese and Shaw finally neared an apparently abandoned customs building, whose sealed door had obviously been broken in recently.  
  
Stealthily, the team made their way inside the dimly lit and cobweb-laden structure, who was comprised of one large holding area separated from the adjoining offices by paper-thin walls. There, they found a single chair standing in the middle of the room, a small object resting on it. As Shaw and Reese swept the area for threats with their flashlights and handguns, Root quickly checked the piece of furniture and realised the item resting on it was a phone.  
  
\- "Think we're too late ?", Reese asked Shaw as he cleared another dark corner.  
  
\- "Seems pretty obvious that they got what they wanted", was the deadpan reply, the Persian woman finishing her sweep of the nearby cubicles, "So what's our play ?"  
  
\- "Dunno", Reese shook his head, "Root ?"  
  
The aforementioned hacker had taken the abandoned phone in her hand and was frowning over it, obviously concerned.  
  
\- "There's something weird here", she said, biting her lip, "This phone... It's Williamson's but... Something's not right. It's too clean."  
  
\- "Too clean ?", Shaw holstered her pistol, satisfied that the area was clear, and walked over to Root, careful to stay on her left side, "What do you mean."  
  
As the other woman reached her position, Root pointed several things on the screen to her as she explained.  
  
\- "See his text message history ? It's only three days old, as are his call logs and browsing data. Actually", she bit her lower lip in a worried expression, "the phone's whole OS is three days old."  
  
\- "So ?", Reese asked as he joined the two women, putting his own gun away in his long coat, "Maybe it's new."  
  
\- "No, I don't think so", Root shook her head and raised her eyes to the tall man, "That feels way too convenient. Remember Caroline Turing John ?"  
  
Reese's lip pressed together in a thin line, his eyes narrowing.  
  
\- "How could I forget ?", he half-whispered.  
  
Root turned to Shaw, noting the former agent's puzzled expression.  
  
\- "Two years ago", she explained, "I created a fake identity to lure Harry and the Big Lug here into the open. It was a carefully crafted, self-destructing alias, able to even fool the Machine's scrutiny. I hacked into various social media networks to create fake profiles and made them appear to be several years old."  
  
\- "And you think", Shaw completed, "that this guy did the same ?"  
  
\- "Call it a hunch", Root shrugged, "but something isn't right. Everything about this guy is too normal to be true. No one is perfect, Shaw, everybody as some skeleton in their closet."  
  
\- "But isn't he supposed to be some sort of defence contractor ?", Reese enquired, his brow arching, "Wouldn't that be hard to fake ?"  
  
Root gave him a patient yet slightly condescending smile.  
  
\- "John, you of all people should know it isn't. Besides, did you talk to any of his co-workers, any family member ? Did you even meet his supposed girlfriend ?"  
  
\- "Belize seems goddamn convenient now that you mention it", Shaw groused as she took her weapon out, "We've been played like a bunch of rookies."  
  
\- "If the guy played us", Reese still didn't look sold on the idea, "Where is he now ?."  
  
\- "It really is no concern of yours", a garbled mechanical voice suddenly shot out Williamson's phone speakers, "for what significance does a single man's whereabouts bear when he is part of something much larger ?"  
  
Reese and Root immediately stiffened drew their weapons, the former shining his flashlight around their position, sending shadows dancing from every corner. Still, they couldn't distinguish any actual movement that would indicate the presence of enemies.  
  
\- "Who are you ?", Root called, her demeanour eerily calm, "And what do you want ?"  
  
\- "Who we are", the voice from the phone stated, "is of no consequence. Just know that we are many, and that we are everywhere. As to what we want, well... We already have it."  
  
\- "Stop with the dramatics already", Shaw growled menacingly as she continued sweeping the shadows with her flashlight, gun held at the ready, "and show yourself, you useless coward."  
  
\- "Threats, threats", the voice sounded amused, "Always idle when there is no enemy to face, no foe to grasp, aren't they ? But we'll humour you this once. We'd heard rumours, whispers of a group of vigilante that always seemed to know where to find people who are about to get into trouble. This... Interested us, so we decided to see for ourselves."  
  
There was an ominous silence before whoever was on the other end of the line concluded dramatically.  
  
\- "And now, we know your faces."  
  
\- "That's nice I guess", Reese asserted blankly, still looking as if he expected armed men to surge from some dark corner, "How about you return the courtesy and show yourself ?"  
  
There was a dry, digitally deformed chuckle.  
  
\- "And were would be the fun in that ? But don't worry... We'll probably be in touch, some day. Until then..."  
  
The phone clicked silent and, in the shadows around them, nothing stirred.  


* * *

**> > > ANALYSIS OF ARCHIVED DATA CONCLUDED.**  
  
** > > > MONITORING CURRENT EVENTS...**  


* * *

\- "So", Shaw said as she peered over Root's shoulder, leaning on the back of the couch while the other woman was typing away on her laptop, the dorky glasses she had come to favour lately when working late resting on the bridge of her nose, "our Computer Pope thinks Groft didn't act alone ?"  
  
\- "She's sure of it", Root confirmed as she leaned the side of her head against Shaw's, closing her tired eyes for a moment, "In fact, She's matched several snippets of the code we retrieved from his penthouse with something we encountered earlier."  
  
Shaw sighed as she straightened up and moved away. Root's disappointment at that fact was short-lived, however, as the Persian woman simply moved around to sit on the couch beside her, bumping their shoulders together.  
  
\- "Encountered when ?", Shaw asked.  
  
\- "Remember the USS Sickles ?", Root removed her glasses to rub her eyes, putting them away on the coffee table, "Well, She matched part of what the FBI now calls the ICE-10 virus with tidbits from the worm that tried to blow the ship up."  
  
\- "That's a bummer."  
  
Stifling a yawn, Root closed her laptop and put it away near her discarded glasses, before settling herself against Shaw's chest with a contended sigh. The other woman didn't even try to pretend she didn't enjoy it this time, simply deciding she was too tired for games and encircled the hacker's shoulders with one arm.  
  
\- "But there's more", Root resumed in an exhausted voice, "She's also matched it with code from an old case of ours. Remember Jonah Williamson ?"  
  
\- "The fake defence tech guy ?", Shaw raised her brow, "Almost forgot about the stupid ass prankster. So... That means whoever it was that tried to scare us then, or whatever, they're still kicking ? And now they're trying to blow up the world or some shit ?"  
  
\- "Afraid so", Root's voice was very small as she snuggled closely to Shaw, "But the end of the world can wait till morning, sweetie."  
  
Shaw smiled warmly, idly playing with a strand of her companion's hair.  
  
Yes, she thought, it probably can.  
  
\- "Sameen ?", Root asked lazily after a while, "Do you miss it sometimes ?"  
  
Shaw cocked her head on the side, trying to peer into her companion's half shut eyes.  
  
\- "Miss what ?"  
  
\- "Before. When things were... simpler".  
  
Without even pausing to entertain the silly thought, Shaw snorted in derision as she rested her chin atop Root's head.  
  
\- "When were things ever simple with you ?"  
  
A warm yet sleepy smile parted Root's lips as she melted some more into the other woman's embrace, obviously pleased with the other woman's answer. Shaw stayed silent after that, content to simply listen to her companion's slowly stilling breathing, musing that somehow she felt as if things had actually gotten simpler lately, as opposed to what Root had suggested. Slowly, gradually, she had found herself feeling less and less awkward in their interactions, learning to appreciate them without perpetually wondering whether or not she was doing the right thing. She had become somewhat used to it, and had come to accept Root loved her with, and not in spite of, her emotional handicap.  
  
Then it hit her.  
  
\- "Root ?"  
  
\- "Yes, sweetie ?", came the sugar-sweet yet sleepy reply.  
  
\- "I'm not carrying you to bed."  
  
\- "Whatever you say, Sameen."  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, sorry to have pulled a RAM on you guys. It was necessary, 'for the mission' if you will.
> 
> Next chapter will be back to the present and titled 'General Population'.


	4. General Population

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fusco, Root and Shaw receive an old accointance's number.

**> > > MONITORING CURRENT EVENTS...**   
  
_\- "Is everything ready ?"_   
  
_\- "It is, boss. Silence says he's ready to meet you."_   
  
_\- "Good. Time to remind those Russians who's in charge here."_

* * *

  
The main auditorium room was large, with an incredibly high ceiling to accommodate the rickety looking sloped seating area that faced what remained of the stage, which was now little more than an elevated area framed by two moth-eaten curtains of undefinable colour. It was dark, but not too damp, and would only require minimal work to be made usable again for the purpose Root had in mind since, owing to be having been a live performance theatre once, it had a very solid electrical installation.  
  
It was, in one word, perfect.  
  
\- "Like it ?", Root asked Shaw and Fusco as they entered the room, the opening door letting a ray of sunlight penetrate the gloomy interior.  
  
\- "Why am I not surprised you bought an old theatre, Cocoa Puffs", the detective teased while the former agent simply grinned, walking around and sizing up the place.  
  
\- "I like places with flair", Root stated, extending her arms dramatically, "and this very much has some."  
  
\- "That means we can start to move the HQ stuff out of our place ?", Shaw asked while peeking behind a crumbling stage curtain, briefly letting out a cough as age old dust penetrated her lungs.  
  
\- "Yes, Sameen", Root walked over to Shaw and started wiping the dust off the other woman's coat with a dotting look, "that means we can stop invading your private space to save lives."  
  
\- "Good", came the curt answer as the shorter woman batted the taller one's hands away from her a little less than convincingly, which of course only had for effect to cause Root to become even more handsy. From across the room, Fusco's brow furrowed as he tried finding something else to look at.  
  
\- "You know I'm a pretty laid back guy", he grumbled after clearing his throat, "but maybe save the public groping for after lunch okay ?"  
   
\- "Did someone say lunch ?", Shaw perked up, shoving Root aside.  
  
\- "I'll go get you some, sweetie", the tall hacker shot her a high-wattage smile as she kissed her on the cheek before starting to walk to the exit, "I'll try not to forget getting you something too, Lionel."  
  
\- "Yeah, yeah", Fusco muttered, "love you too."  
  
But before Root could reach the exit, there was a burst of static in her hear, followed by the sound of a digitalised voice.  
  
 **Sorry to ruin lunch, but you have a new number.**  
  
\- "Really ? Talk about timing", Root pouted, "Shaw's going to be pissed."  
  
\- "What's the hold up Eeyore ?", Shaw yelled across the large auditorium, as if to emphasise her companion's point, "I'm still hungry, you know."  
  
 **Oh, she'll want in on this one, trust me.**  
  
\- "Don't be a tease, then. Who is it ?  
  
 **Ask Sameen if she remembers Peter Yogorov.**  
  


* * *

  
An hour later, the team had quickly reconvened at Root and Shaw's place to discuss the new number, not forgetting to have the Machine deliver lunch there since, as Shaw put it, no one could be expected to deal with Yogorov's bullshit on an empty stomach.  
  
\- "Okay so", the short former agent recapped with her mouth full of tandoori chicken, "Yogorov's number's up, but he's still in Rikers, right ? So that leaves two possibilities : either he's going to get shanked for pissing somebody off, which I can't believe still hasn't happened yet, or he's going to off someone by proxy."  
  
Beside her, Fusco put down his own food, wiping his fingers on a paper napkin before he flipped a few pages in their number's 'borrowed' police file the Machine had been more than happy to print out for them.  
  
\- "Or maybe he's going to off another inmate himself."  
  
\- "Not likely", Root shook her head as she got up to brew some tea, "Jailed or not, he's still the nominal head of the Russian Mafia in town. He's not going to risk extending his sentence if he can help it."  
  
\- "Oh !", Shaw started, visibly having some sort of food-induced epiphany, "Maybe someone's gonna break him out", she smiled as she took another bite, "Now _that_ would be fun."  
  
\- "Missing prison breaks sweetie ?", Root grinned as she poured herself a mug of Sencha green tea.  
  
\- "My last one was crap overall, but it had its moments", Shaw smiled in remembrance of Jeremy Lambert's not so smug face after she had shot him, then paused when she noticed Root's face going dark as she referenced her escape from Samaritan and realised the other woman hadn't exactly thought her latest tease through, "But there were other ones, fun ones. Maybe I'll tell you about it someday."  
  
That seemed to do the trick, as Root's face illuminated with an endeared smile while she came to sit back with them, taking a sip from her drink.  
  
\- "The main problem here", the hacker mused softly, "is going to be access."  
  
\- "One of us could get arrested", Shaw shrugged, "It's easy enough nowadays."  
  
\- "There's just a little niggle with that plan Sameen", Root pouted, tilting her head toward Fusco on her left, "If we do it this way, Lionel will be out of a job."  
  
Shaw raised her brow askance, her eyes alternating between the still eating detective and the pouting hacker.  
  
\- "Why ? It wouldn't be the fir... Oh", her eyes widened in understanding, "Right."  
  
\- "Yeah", Fusco snorted, "No offence, but I don't think you're virile enough for this one, Short Stack."  
  
There was a pause during which Shaw shot Fusco the kind of glare that could, in Root's opinion, probably be used to power a nuclear reactor. With an eye-roll of epic proportion, the short Persian woman let out a growl and turned back to the hacker.  
  
\- "So, what's plan B ? If we can't get to Yogorov this case is gonna be a short one."  
  
\- "Well...", Root bit her lip, shifting her gaze away from Shaw's, "there's one solution, but you're not going to like it."  
  
Shaw's eyes widened.  
  
\- "Root", she grunted, "no way."  
  
\- "No way what ?", Fusco asked, feeling out of the loop.  
  
Root held out her hands with a shrug.  
  
\- "I'm sorry Sam, but unless you have a better idea."  
  
\- "Any idea is better than yours", Shaw said decisively, "We could... Break him out ? Maybe ask the Machine to release all the inmates at once like she did for Harold."  
  
\- "She did what ?", Root looked at the other woman in puzzlement, causing her to momentarily freeze.  
  
\- "Oh, right. It happened during your... sabbatical", Shaw's voice had an uneasy quality to it as she recounted the events, piecing back her hazy memories together, "Finch got himself arrested, so your computer other half decided to create the biggest mass evasion in history to allow him to escape. Could have been a lot of fun, actually, if not for... Well, you know."  
  
From across the table, Root graced her with half a smile and gently nudged her thigh with her own foot.  
  
\- "Funny as that sounds", she said, "I don't think we should resort to this kind of extreme measures just yet."  
  
\- "Fine", Shaw groaned in defeat, tossing her hands up in a dramatic huff, "Call him."  
  
\- "Call who ?", Fusco's eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of the exchange he had just witnessed.  
  
In response, Shaw shot him one of her blank looks.  
  
\- "Oh boy, Lionel", she said in a low voice, "you're going to like this even less than I do."  
  


* * *

  
\- "You need me to _what_ ?", Reginald Baker's voice sounded almost strangled as he entered the apartment, though the front door this time, only to have Root explain to him what sounded a lot like heaping a bunch of stupid ideas over one another.  
  
\- "Believe me", Fusco grumbled from across the room, "I don't like the plan any more than you do, especially since it involves trusting a murderous lunatic to not screw us over the first chance he gets."  
  
\- "Let me get this straight", Baker ignored the detective's remark, choosing to try and focus on making sense of Root's plan, "Research has tasked you with investigating a Russian mob boss, who at the moment is serving eight years in Rikers, and your bright idea is to have him", he gestured to Fusco, "arrest me ? Not to mention that, if I understand correctly you have no idea whether or not the scumbag in question is a victim or a perpetrator."  
  
\- "Well, Reginald", Root pouted disapprovingly, "you did say you wanted to help, didn't you ?"  
  
\- "No I didn't !", Baker defended himself, almost huffing.  
  
Root smiled at him condescendingly, like one would to a petulant child.  
  
\- "Maybe you didn't _say_ it", she elaborated with deliberate slowness, "but you keep coming here like a lost puppy, so I just assumed you wanted to make yourself useful. You're out of a job, after all, and I do believe what we are offering is way more exciting than anything else you could find."  
  
\- "Are you offering me a job ?", Baker asked incredulously and, maybe, a little hopefully.  
  
\- "No", Shaw cut in from her current position leaning on a wall behind Root, "we're not. So, are you going to do this thing or not ?"  
  
With a defeated shrug, Baker extended his arms toward Fusco, joining them at the wrist in a dramatical gesture of surrender.  
  
\- "Very well, detective", he said with a slight scowl, "looks like you get to put me away after all."  
  
\- "Don't you worry smartass", Fusco smirked back as he took his handcuffs out from his pocket, "I'm gonna enjoy every second of this."  
  


* * *

  
Peter Yogorov was sitting on a bench in the exercise yard of the Rikers Island jail complex, leaning back, arms crossed on his chest. He enjoyed those quiet moments outside, despite the air getting colder and colder as Autumn slowly turned into Winter. It would snow soon, he mused, and he liked snow, it made him think of the motherland he'd never set foot in, it felt natural.  
  
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Yuri move away from his usual position and start moving across the yard. The burly man was part of a group of five that always kept an eye out whenever Yogorov went to the yard and made sure their boss would get no undesired visitors, so if he was moving that meant someone was approaching. And well, it also happened to be a new face, Yogorov noted with a smile. This was going to be fun.  
  
The new arrival was a grim faced man with jet black hair and grey eyes, and he looked quite sure of himself as he purposefully walked towards Yogorov without even trying to mask his intended destination. Unsurprisingly, Yuri intercepted him halfway to his  destination, putting a stern hand on the intruder's chest.  
  
\- "Come on", Yogorov heard the dark-haired newcomer say with a testy smile, "I just want to talk to the man."  
  
\- "Fuck off", Yuri grunted in his usual amicable manner.  
  
To Yogorov's surprise, the unknown man's smile just grew wider as he deftly put his hand on Yuri's arm and, before anyone could react, twisted it against the Russian's back, eliciting a muffled grunt of pain as he used his other arm to hold him in a choke-hold. Immediately, several other inmates sprung into action, quickly forming a tight circle around the incident, thus drawing the attention of one the wardens, who whipped out his baton, ready to break out the fight.  
  
\- "It's all right everyone", Yogorov called with a smile that left his eyes glaring coldly as he got up and raised his hands appealingly, "the man just wants to talk, no need to make a fuss."  
  
On cue, the dark-haired intruder released Yuri from his grip, letting the large Russian man tumble gracelessly to the ground and held his hands up, as the warden stopped and turned away while the crowd slowly dispersed. Yogorov walked the few steps separating him from the newcomer, two of his bruisers in tow, and greeted him with a falsely warm grin.  
  
\- "So", he asked, "who are you and why do you want to talk to me so badly ?"  
  
\- "Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about", Reginald Baker answered with all the bravado he could muster, which was quite a lot, "So you're the big bad Peter Yogorov, eh ? I expected someone taller."  
  
For a brief instant, anger flared across Yogorov's features, causing his nearby henchmen to tense, anticipating violence. Yet, the Russian boss' face split into a grin and he laughed quietly.  
  
\- "You've got the mouth on you", he said, sizing Baker up, "and quite clearly the moves to match the attitude. Let me guess, you got here and figured you'll bluster your way in with the biggest game around, just to be safe ?"  
  
\- "Something like that. Besides, if your boy wonder over there is what you call protection, I'd advise you step up your game in that department."  
  
Baker gave a cold smirk, showing some teeth in a predatory manner.  
  
\- "Tempting as your offer may seem", Yogorov replied sharply, "I did not survive this long with as many enemies as I have by being an imbecile. So, tell me, what's the catch ? And, please, don't bother trying to lie to me."  
  
\- "There's no catch", Baker shrugged in dismissal, "I just like being on the winning side, that's all."  
  
Upon hearing the other man's answer, Yogorov laughed dryly, shaking his head almost imperceptibly before gesturing for his men to get between him and Baker.  
  
\- "Sorry", he said, "I'm not the kind of man to take any chances. Come near me again, I can guarantee it will be the last thing you ever do."  
  
With that, he turned on his heels and exited the exercise yard.

* * *

  
Shaw entered the auditorium to find Root crawling under a desk, visibly entangled within the net of a particularly vicious power-cord-based predator. With a smirk, she crouched down and called in a teasing voice.  
  
\- "You okay down there Root ? Want me to get a machete ?"  
  
\- "Won't be of any use in such close quarters sweetie", the taller woman grunted back, "Better get the flame-thrower already."  
  
\- "We don't own a flame-thrower", Shaw raised an eyebrow, "do we ?"  
  
Finally freeing herself from the mess of wires sustaining her newly installed computer equipment, Root emerged from her crawl-space and quickly deposited a kiss on Shaw's lips as they both got up.  
  
\- "Well, Sameen, that could probably be arranged if you ask nice enough. Besides, I'm fairly certain you're hot enough to breathe fire."  
  
The corny comeback unsurprisingly drew an eye roll out of Shaw, accompanied by one of those half-hidden smiles she had taken to gracing Root with lately.  
  
\- "You're such a dork. Hear anything from Baker yet ?"  
  
\- "Well", Root pouted, "I don't know if you've heard, but he got himself arrested."  
  
Seeing as Shaw didn't look she was going to dignify her tease with an answer, the hacker continued.  
  
\- "Not a peep since he got into Rikers. Which is to be expected, really. The Machine is working on getting him a line of communication to us ASAP, but these things take time."  
  
Shaw looked at her feet for a second, pondering her next words and audibly wetting her lips as she started to speak.  
  
\- "Do you... Actually trust that guy Root ? I mean, he was ISA."  
  
\- "So were you", Root retorted with a quizzical look in her hazel eyes, "and I used to blackmail and kill people for shit and giggles. I don't see what makes Reginald any better or worse than us, especially if She says he can be of some use."  
  
\- "Yeah, I know none of us are exactly saints", Shaw dismissively waved her right hand in front of her face, "but still. The man murdered one of our numbers in front of Lionel and I don't think he's going to live it down any time soon. Let's just agree to be careful okay ?"  
  
Root nodded in understanding. Despite the Machine's assurance to the contrary, she knew they should be wary of Baker, if only to ensure his mere presence didn't create a rift amidst the team.  
  
  


  
Silvio Galvani met with Silence in an abandoned warehouse a few miles away from the city, in what could be considered neutral grounds if it wasn't for the multiple heavily armed and dour faced men the mobster and his party had passed on their way in. When they entered the largest room in the building, previously its main storage area, the New Yorkers were greeted by their host standing alone under the one working light-bulb, shadows dancing across his face. Silence was a tall, albino man with freakish white hair and unsettling composure, wearing a black outfit that included a turtle-neck that Galvani knew hid a large jagged scar running across the man's throat, a reminder of the incident that gave birth to his chosen nickname.  
  
\- "Was the small army really necessary ?", Galvani enquired, well aware of the fact that he himself brought no less than a dozen armed thugs with him to the meeting.  
  
Silence merely shrugged, his blood-red eyes staring into the other man's.  
  
\- "Shouldn't you have brought an interpret or somethin' ?", Galvani gestured impatiently, "I don't know how to sign."  
  
The only answer he got was a curt nod and a patronising smile. Visibly unnerved, he swallowed, trying hard not to glance to his men a couple steps behind him and continued, almost blurting out the words in one continuous stream.  
  
\- "Okay then, we'll do it your way. There's a man in Rikers I need gone, quick. My men inside can't get to him on account of his goons playing security and he's been hurting my business in town. I heard you're good, and I'm ready to pay, so... Do we have a deal ?"  
  
Galvani felt himself studied by frightening albino eyes for what felt like an eternity, sweat slowly pooling at the base of his neck. Then, Silence gave him a curt nod and turned on his heels, exiting the warehouse at an unhurried pace.

* * *

   
  
When he got back to his cell, Baker wasn't in the least surprised to find a cellphone and a discreet wireless earpiece neatly stashed under his cot. He knew his new employer was the sort that had both a long reach and practicality in mind. After a quick glance outside to ensure no one was looking his way, he quickly set the device up and soon heard Root's voice in his ear.  
  
\- "Hi Reggie", she called, "How's prison going ?"  
  
\- "Pretty dull", Baker muttered, careful to move his lips as little as possible, facing sideways from the door, "The mark has a numerous if hilariously inefficient security detail surrounding him. Doesn't exactly look worried."  
  
\- "Think he's the perpetrator here ?"  
  
Baker considered the question for a moment. Having observed Yogorov for a full day now, he hadn't gotten the impression he was planning anything momentous from his general demeanour, but then again a man like that would probably not consider murder to be anything but business as usual.  
  
\- "Hard to say."  
  
\- "Guess you'll have to hang in there a little longer then", Root chirped back with obvious enjoyment, "We'll make sure your court hearing runs into scheduling problems. Keep us posted."  
  
With a sigh, Baker cut the communication, pondering why exactly he was doing all this exactly. Sure, he liked feeling useful, and with the ISA gone and the government probably looking for a way to make him disappear, he hadn't exactly had much choice as far as employers went, but still, he wasn't used to sticking his neck out for random strangers, let alone incarcerated mob bosses. And besides, his new reluctant co-workers were a far cry from the disciplined and efficient ex-military he was used to working with, although this was an adaptation he felt like he could at least attempt since his former colleagues had tried to murder him in the end.  
  
\- "This will take some getting used to", he muttered to himself amidst the quiet of his cell.

* * *

  
  
Three long and boring days passed while the Machine assets were busy trying to assess whether or not they should be trying to stop Peter Yogorov or save him. While Baker kept his wary vigil inside Rikers, Shaw ran surveillance on several key figures of the New York underground, including Silvio Galvani, whom both she and Root estimated was the most likely to try and take out the Russian mob leader. The Machine had not been forthcoming with any detail, as was her habit since Samaritan's defeat, so Root had taken over the digital legwork, sifting through the digital footprint of all potentially involved party, without uncovering anything remotely interesting although she did engineer for a beauty salon Galvani used to launder drug money to suffer a series of catastrophic UV lamps failures out of sheer boredom.  
  
On the fourth day, however, everything changed. On that day, Peter Yogorov got a visit from his lawyer, who informed him that new elements in a federal case he was tied to required him to be temporarily moved to the local FBI headquarters for interrogation. Such a transfer was far too convenient to be anywhere close to coincidental, so the Machine's team of assets sprung into action, and soon a couple select alteration were made to the prison roster.  
  


* * *

  
  
As the two shotgun-wielding guards escorted him towards the armoured truck, Yogorov froze.  
  
\- "Why is that guy here ?"  
  
Already chained to a railing inside the vehicle was the dark-haired man that had approached him a few days earlier in the exercise yard, managing to look both smug and annoyed.  
  
\- "Guess we're carpooling", Baker snorted in derision, "I hope you're not expecting chit-chat, though, I'm more of a quiet ride kind of guy."  
  
\- "Shut your mouth then", one the guards barked as he shoved Yogorov forward, helping him inside the truck while two cars pulled over by their side.   
  
The first vehicle was black, sported government plates and contained two suit-wearing men, whereas the other was an ageing dark green town car containing a chubby curly-haired man and a short matte-skinned woman.  
  
\- "Special agent Charles Wilkerson", one of the men from the black car said as he handed his badge to the closest prison guard, "this is special agent Clarke. We'll be taking over escort duties on this transfer."  
  
\- "Detective Fusco", the green car male occupant announced as he strode out of his vehicle, flashing his NYPD shield from his belt, "this is my partner, detective Silva. Those guys' backup", he gestured to the FBI agents who had turned to face him, a befuddled look on their face, "got stuck in some stupid traffic fustercluck a few miles north, so we got called to help."  
  
Wilkerson's features turned livid.  
  
\- "We can handle this, detective", he hissed through his teeth before turning back to the prison staff, "Whatever this is, this hasn't been cleared with the Bureau."  
  
\- "Yeah well", the head warden shrugged while handing Wilkerson back his badge, "It's been cleared with us. No way in hell am I letting two high-security prisoner stroll out of here with only two suits as an escort. Take it or leave it."  
  
\- "I'll call my superiors", Wilkerson argued while clenching a fist by his side, "They'll clear this up with yours. We're not leaving with them."  
  
\- "Talk about inter-agency cooperation", Silva laughed from behind Fusco's shoulder, "Don't get your privates all bunched up, we're just here to help."  
  
Wilkerson pivoted toward her, seething.  
  
\- "Your help", he articulated slowly, "is neither required nor appreciated."  
  
Visibly annoyed by the drama unfolding inside his transfer bay, the head warden threw his hands up in the air.  
  
\- "Okay boys and girls", he called, "Let me give it to you straight : I still have a prison to run, and everything about this transfer seems in order. If there's any irregularity, I'm going to be forced to suspend the whole operation and saddle every single one of us with a steaming pile of paperwork. So, I'll ask one last time, agent Wilkerson, is everything in order ?"  
  
Defeated, his interlocutor shook his head and motioned to Clarke to get back in their car.  
  
\- "Fine. Let's get moving."  
  


* * *

  
  
The one good thing about Yogorov's number coming up, Shaw thought, was that she'd finally gotten a valid enough excuse to take the bike out for a spin. It had been sitting in one of Root's storage units for months after her supposed death, and wasn't exactly the best thing to be driving after getting yourself nearly gutted by some lunatic, so it had stayed unused a while longer, which was a damn shame to the former operative's opinion. Watching the small motorcade reach the city proper, she quickly activated her earpiece.  
  
\- "Root ?", she called, "they're on the move. Whatever shit is going to happen, it's probably going to be soon. Fusco's tracker operational ?"  
  
\- "Right as rain", Root answered over the comms, "I can track our dear Lionel within six inches in real time. I'm uploading the location data to your GPS, try not to get caught tailing them."  
  
\- "Yeah", Shaw rolled her eyes with a snort, "like that'd ever happen."  
  
\- "There's a first time for everything, Sameen", Root's voice was teasing yet almost imperceptibly tense, "Happy hunting."  
  


* * *

  
  
\- "Whoa", Silva mouthed as she and Fusco were driving tail to the prisoner transfer truck, "that guy really didn't seem to like you."  
  
\- "Yeah", her partner groaned, "We got history."  
  
Turning her head to her right so to be looking straight at Fusco, Silva twisted the corner of her lips in a knowing smile.  
  
\- "What kind of history ? You steal his girl or something."  
  
\- "Nah", Fusco chuckled loudly, "We worked a case together a few months back, then the Man shut us down. Wilkerson thinks I was in on it somehow..."  
  
\- "Were you ?"  
  
The question was asked in a joking tone, yet Fusco knew it was at least partly earnest. Dani Silva was a perceptive woman, and a dangerous one to underestimate.  
  
\- "Do I look like agent Mulder to ya ?", he deflected, "C'mon Silva, be real."  
  
The female detective settled back into her seat, the unsettling smile never leaving her lips.  
  


* * *

  
  
The albino man was standing on the rooftop, hands stuffed inside the pockets of his dirty brown leather trench-coat, watching the busy street beneath him. In his earwig he could ear information on their mark's slow progress across the city being relayed by his informants, and soon the specific piece of information he had been waiting for.  
  
\- "They've passed marker seven."  
  
Stiffly, Silence brought his right hand to the microphone near his ear and actioned the mechanical clicker he was holding twice.  
  


* * *

  
  
Inside the black car heading the transfer motorcade, special agent Charles Wilkerson looked restlessly around as his partner of the day kept his focus on driving. Or tried to, at least.  
  
\- "Tell me", Clarke started softly, "Why are we putting up with this bullshit ?"  
  
\- "You guess is as good as mine", Wilkerson removed his glasses and started wiping them clean with the corner of his suit jacket, "The mere fact that he's here is problematic."  
  
\- "And far too convenient to be a coincidence."  
  
The two FBI agents shared a knowing look. They had indeed both reached the same conclusion.  
  
\- "You don't think he'll be stupid enough to try something ?", Clarke resumed, "Not in broad daylight ?"  
  
\- "If he does", Wilkerson's voice was low and threatening, "he'll be sorry. He's not getting away, not this time."  
  
\- "At least if he shows his hand now, it would spare us having to wrap up the investigation."  
  
Both men chuckled dryly and without humour.  
  
\- "Whether he knows it or not", Wilkerson muttered as he looked through the car's rear window, "Lionel Fusco's long stint of impunity is over."  
  
What could have been a moment of pensive silence was suddenly interrupted as Clarke slammed on the car's brakes, jerking both him and his companion forward and yelled.  
  
\- "What the... !"  
  
An explosion ripped through the air and the world went to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slightly irregular updates, I'm currently in the middle of a move and job change so... I'll still update once a week though, if all goes right. Should quiet down by September.
> 
> Next chapter will be titled 'Hush'.


	5. Hush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell breaks lose as the Machine's assets face a new and deadly foe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I have just been inordinately busy as of late. I'm not forgetting any of you or this story though !
> 
> Thanks for all your comments and support. I'll answer them all, but it may take some time.

**> > > MONITORING CURRENT EVENTS...**   
  
  
_\- "911, what is your emergency ?"_  
  
 _\- "There's... there's been an explosion on the I-278E, just after... I think it was exit 39... There's a lot of smoke, I..."_  
  
  
 **> > > ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE NEARBY ASSETS... **  
  
**> > PRIMARY ASSET IDENTIFIED : Fusco, Lionel.**  
  
 **> STATUS : pending assessment...**  
  
  
 _\- "All units, we have reports of a 10-80 on the I-278E, near exit 39."_  
  
 _\- "Dispatch, please confirm 10-80 on the interstate."_  
  
 _\- "Confirmed 10-80. All available units proceed to the area, expect 10-53 and probable involvement of a 10-15. Hang on... All units, we have an 11-99 from location, I repeat, 11-99 from location."_   
  
  
**> > > ASSESSING OPTIONS...**  
  
 **> > RE-ROUTING PRIMARY ASSET : Shaw, Sameen.**   
  


* * *

  
Lionel Fusco pressed his handkerchief on his mouth as he made his way through the acrid black smoke bathing the world around him, his ears still ringing with deafening intensity. The detective didn't know where the bombs had been placed exactly and how they had been, but their effect had been immediate and deadly, blowing up the road directly in front of Wilkerson and Clarke's car as they were driving on the interstate, sending rubble and a couple flaming wrecks in a fiery burst, overturning the black vehicle and forcing the armoured prisoner transfer truck off the road to collide with Fusco and Silva's own. The only small mercy anyone had been afforded in this affair was that the road had been cleared beforehand to accommodate the prisoner transfer, a fact that had in the end made it so no civilian had been hit by the explosions.  
  
\- "Think this is a terror attack ?", Silva's voice sounded from behind Fusco a second before he turned to see emerge from the pall of smoke surrounding the remains of the truck. Fusco shook his head, noticing his partner was bleeding from at least a couple cuts on her face and forehead.  
  
\- "Seems too damn convenient, doesn't it ? How're the prisoners doin' ?"  
  
\- "They're fine. One of the guards has been knocked unconscious, but the rest are still operational. Fusco...", Silva looked as lost as he could have been, had he not spent the last few years hanging around the world's worst gang of lunatics, "What the hell is this ?"  
  
\- "Not a f..."  
  
Fusco felt air being displaced to his left and heard a dull throbbing sound, like that of a large and angry bee whirling past, then saw Silva's left shoulder explode in a flash of red mist. The woman fell down with a strangled yelp of pain, her body hitting the pavement with force. Never one to wait for the bad stuff to happen to him, Fusco instantly took a dive himself, taking cover behind a ruined car.  
  
What in the hell was happening ?   
  


* * *

  
Once things started to go pear shaped, Baker immediately knew whoever was coming after Yogorov had definitely foregone any attempt at subtlety and decided to simply power through the task  with the single mindedness of a charging rhinoceros on steroids. He could respect that ; sometimes the only  way to do something properly was  to take a sledgehammer to it.   
  
The truck violently rocked as the shock-waves from the explosion sent it reeling, their driver swerving madly and failing to avoid a collision with both the railing and Fusco's car behind them. The two guards looking over Baker and Yogorov were, by virtue of not being secured to the railings, thrown about and promptly knocked out by the impact, while the Russian mob boss and former team leader were spared the worst of it all.  
  
\- "Should have worn your seatbelts", Baker snarkily remarked as he made short work of his cuff using a hairpin he had managed to smuggle inside with the Machine's help. In front of him, Yogorov looked evidently disturbed by the turn events were taking, but not particularly afraid.  
  
\- "So, are you really here to help me or simply kill me ?"  
  
Baker smirked, briefly toying with the idea of making the Russian man sweat a little by pretending the later, then decided it would be counterproductive.  
  
\- "Like I told you before, I'm on your side", he reiterated while swiftly uncuffing his companion, "The guys who just tried to blow us up, though, I can't really answer for."  
  
Briefly massaging his shoulders, Yogorov shot Baker a look of mild astonishment.  
  
\- "Who sent you here then ? And how did you know something like this was going to happen ? Come to think of it, how in the hell did you manage to get in this truck with me ?"  
  
Baker shook his head an retrieved a shotgun from one of the prone guards, hesitating for a moment before also taking the man's pistol and handing it to Yogorov.  
  
\- "I'll be happy to give you every silly detail, but I'm afraid this would mean the other guys are going to murder us in the meantime. Short version : I'm a concerned third party with some very well informed friends."  
  
Yogorov cocked his head to the side, visibly less than convinced by Baker's rationale. But before he could issue any sort of rebuke, the metallic sound of high-powered rounds hitting the armoured truck's frame filled the air and both men ducked in reflex.  
  
\- "Well", Baker smiled grimly, "I guess this is were the fun begins."  
  


* * *

  
From the smoke seven figures emerged, their faces hidden by scarves, balaclavas and ski googles. They made their way through the devastation with grim purpose, tactical rifles extended in front of them, utterly silent as they did so. As they walked past an overturned black car, a man in a torn suit with a face covered in burns and cuts flashed a FBI badge in their directions, his hand trembling as he fumbled to take his service weapon out of his his shoulder holster. The leader of the masked men didn't even slow down as he cut him down with a controlled burst from his weapon, turning his chest into a red ruin. Then he raised his left arm, actioning a mechanical clicker twice and his followers opened fire on the crashed armoured truck in front of them, five of them riddling its carcass with bullets while the two others made for its rear door. Once they reached it, the shooting stopped.  
  


* * *

  
Fusco watched from his hiding place behind his own car as their attackers cut Clarke down like he was some bothersome insect and felt his stomach clench at the sight. Not far from him, Silva was laying down on the ground, unconscious and slowly bleeding out from what looked like a pulverised shoulder. The detective knew that help was on the way, that backup would have been alerted the moment  the bomb went off and yet he also knew they would be too late. These guys knew what they were doing, and they would no doubt have planned their attacks while keeping the  NYPD response times in mind.   
  
Someone had to do something or everybody there was going to die. And, as much as Fusco didn't like to think of himself as some sort of suicidal dashing hero-wannabe, he felt a bit short on options. Maybe, if he was quick enough, he could take a couple of the bad guys out before they had a chance react, throwing their plan into disarray and possibly allowing law enforcement to get the drop on them. It was a desperate, and quite clearly stupid plan that was absolutely certain to get him killed, but he didn't see any other way out of this mess.  
  
\- "Lionel ?"  
  
The voice in his ear reminded Fusco that he had indeed a direct line to both Root and the Machine despite the extenuating circumstances, and hadn't even thought of using it. Maybe old habits did die hard.  
  
\- "Cocoa Puffs ?", he whispered, "I hope you or your robot pen-pal got some sort of genius idea, 'cause I'm halfway to talking myself into a Reese over there."  
  
\- "You won't need to. She can't see you right now, but Sameen is on her way to your position. Just hold on a few more seconds."  
  
Great, Fusco thought with a flash of relief nonetheless, a sociopathic killing machine was just what this whole mess needed.  
  


* * *

  
Silence glanced at his ticking watch as his men busted the truck's door open. By his reckoning, they still had four and a half minute to carry out their mission before their escape route was cut off by the rushing police force, which was more than enough to turn Yogorov into Swiss cheese and then some. With a smile, he started to walk in the crashed vehicle's direction, sparing a short second to look at the prone female detective who was lying down close by, a slowly forming pool of her own blood starting to surround her body like a gruesome frame.  
  
Three new elements suddenly came to his attention. First, he heard the rumbling noise of a high-powered motor, probably a motorcycle grow in intensity from the East. Second, as his two men swung the heavy steel doors open, several shots resonated from within and one of them ducked down to avoid the incoming while his less fortunate colleague was thrown back with force as several rounds impacted his chest.   
  
Third, he noticed a man was huddled behind the crashed green car to his right.

* * *

  
  
After hearing from Root that Fusco was still alive but in critical situation, Shaw reached the site of the explosion at break-neck speed, her trained eye noticing the four hostile looking men in balaclavas taking aim at the truck while three others were rounding around it to get to the door. In a split second, she evaluated her options and decided taking her gun out right now and engaging in a protracted gunfight with these guys was not going to save Yogorov and Baker.  
  
So, she elected to go for shock and awe.    
  
Gunning down her engine, she expertly zig-zagged around the various pieces of debris the explosion had strewn around the area, noticing from the corner of her eye that the largest group of masked men had heard her arrival and were preparing to bring their weapon to bear, ready to take her out the moment she slowed her motorcycle down, which was exactly why she decided she wasn't going to do anything of the sort. When that last fact became apparent, the men had a couple seconds to try and scramble madly out of the way of the ploughing vehicle, taken completely aback by Shaw's kamikaze tactic before she skid to a halt in the middle of the small group, instantly taking down three out of the four men amidst the wailing hiss of her over-stressed brakes. Not willing to give the last thug any time to process the changed situation, Shaw jumped from her saddle and quickly put him out of the fight with a series of perfectly timed elbow and knee jabs.   
  
Drawing her handgun out as she surveyed the area around her, she noticed Silva's and Clarke's bodies on the ground, as well as an unconscious Wilkerson that looked like he had been thrown out of his car with an excessive amount of force. On her left, she could see Baker executing what she was forced to admit was a flawless hand to hand take down on one of the masked attackers, Yogorov slowly extracting himself from the truck behind him. Counting the body sprawled on the ground nearby, that meant that five out of their seven opponents were down for the count, meaning...  
  
Shaw froze when she finally zeroed in on the last thug, who was now standing in front of Baker and Yogorov, blocking their path. He was wearing a long brown leather trench-coat, and his balaclava obstructed all of this features but a pair of piercing, blood red eyes. He had a compact pistol in his right hand, while his left arm held a bruised and beaten Lionel Fusco close to his chest, the gun's muzzle on the detective's temple.  
  
\- "Let him go", Shaw called to the man, taking a step forward, her gun aimed at his head, "The police are on their way, it's over. You can't win."  
  
She could see the man smile behind his mask, the ghost of his lips visible behind the fabric while his eyes gleamed with sadistic intent. He didn't answer, simply orienting his head towards Yogorov.  
  
\- "In your dreams, freak", Baker had also gotten closer to Silence, stealing a tense glance in Shaw's direction as he took another step, his stolen shotgun held menacingly in front of him even though everyone present knew that firing it in such close quarters would mean Fusco's death as well as his captor's.  
  
\- "They'll be here any time now", Yogorov blurted out, not looking the littlest bit keen at the idea of being taken into custody once more, "What do we care about one stupid cop ? We have to move !"  
  
In the distance, Shaw could hear sirens as well as the distinctive noise of an helicopter rotor. In front of her, Silence pressed his gun tighter onto Fusco's head, eliciting a grunt of pain from the detective, who looked every bit as if he expected to die. She knew she had to make a decision.  
  
\- "Get the hell out", she gestured to Silence, lowering her weapon, "it's over. Baker, take the bike and get Yogorov away from this place. I'll find my own way out."  
  
Not willing to argue with Shaw's logic, Baker quickly grabbed Yogorov's arm and yanked him towards the motorcycle, helping him up the saddle before taking off in the distance, trusting for the Machine to keep the police force out of their escape route. This left Shaw , Silence and Fusco locked in a tense stand-off, brown eyes locked with red.  
  
\- "I told you to get away. Don't make me want to risk that shot anyway."  
  
With a curt nod, the albino man slowly started to back down, dragging Fusco with him for a few meters before clubbing him behind the neck with the butt of his gun and darting away from the interstate, disappearing into the city just as Shaw did the same and the wail of sirens filled the air around the scene.  
  


* * *

  
  
Baker and Yogorov sped away from the scene on Shaw's motorcycle before quickly ditching it to enter a derelict tenement building where they met with the Russian man's associates, who had arranged to extract him from the city. This wasn't exactly what Baker had planned as an endgame for this affair, but given the fact that both the city's entire police force and a detachment of the national guard were now looking for them, he didn't exactly argue when Yogorov  exposed his plan. After all, wasn't their job supposed to be to keep the man safe ?   
  
\- "I still don't know who you truly are, my friend", Yogorov told Baker as they were parting ways, "but I owe you my life. I never forget a debt. If you ever have need of my assistance, I trust you'll find a way to contact me."  
  
\- "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it."  
  
Both men smirked, then the Russians turned back and left, leaving Baker free to try and make his way back to his co-workers. Well, he would have to evade search parties along the way, but that was half the fun of it all, wasn't it ?  
  


* * *

  
  
\- "Just tell me if my goddamn partner made it !"  
  
Fusco's voice cut through the interrogation room like a bullet, the anger and frustration all but visible in the air around him and his interlocutor. Scratching his grey beard with irritation, internal affairs detective James Chappman scoffed his reply away, his words spoken with cutting sharpness.  
  
\- "You don't get to ask about her, you piece of shit."  
  
Shaking his head, Fusco made to get up from his seat, but felt a strong hand keeping him sat down as Chappman's partner, a tall muscular black woman named Helena Teale, prevented him from moving.  
  
\- "What is this, the fourth Reich ?", he yelled, "Are you planning on waterboarding me next ? Keep your hands of me !"  
  
\- "Sorry Fusco", Chappman smiled with condescension, "but I'm afraid you'll have to sit this one out. See, we got a call from the FBI fifteen minutes ago. Special agent Charles Wilkerson woke up. Bet you weren't planning on that to happen, were you ?"  
  
Fusco's mind started spinning through several scenarios, trying to figure out exactly which crackpot theory Wilkerson had managed to put enough force behind to have him arrested. Surely no one was going to fall for this ?  
  
\- "Come on, you really think I had somethin' to do with this ? Think I blow myself up to free some Russian mobster ?"  
  
\- " _We_ don't have to believe anything", Teale pointed out with soft surety, "this is a federal matter now. We're just keeping you company until your friends from the Bureau get here."  
  
Defeated, Fusco slumped back in his chair. So that was it then, the FBI had it in for him. He wasn't sure anyone would be able to get him out of this kind of bind.  
  
\- "Still", Chappman said with a sneer, "you could make it easier for yourself and throw us locals a bone. I mean, come on, I'm dying with curiosity over there... What are you, some kind of serial partner killer ? Is that it, that your thing, Fusco ?"  
  
Rage started bubbling to the surface of Fusco's mind as he heard the man repeat his usual line of accusation as well as a silent and cold despair. If Chappman wasn't just trying to get under his skin, that meant Silva was probably dead already. Why did good people always died around him ? Was he being punished somehow ? Behind him, he heard Teale snicker.  
  
\- "Cat got your tongue ?"  
  
\- "Nah", Chappman waved his right hand in scornful dismissal, "I think this asshat actually thinks he's smarter than us. Well, I guess we'll..."  
  
Two uniformed officers had to brought him to stop Fusco from strangling the IA detective.   
  


* * *

  
It wasn't that evading a bunch of policemen and national guards was much of a problem for a trained operative like Sameen Shaw, but it did felt unnecessarily tedious after the day she'd had. Playing hide and seek with a bunch of rookies handling weapons way too deadly for their own good wasn't exactly her idea of fun, and, despite the fact that their number was probably safe now the mission didn't feel at all like a resounding success. She had cased the transfer route herself, and didn't spot their attackers' IED, which was as irksome as it was surprising.  
  
\- "Hey Root", Shaw activated her comms as she now felt she was far enough from any search party to talk freely, "everything okay at base camp ?"  
  
There was the expected amount of relief in the other woman's voice when she replied, and then some.  
  
\- "Hi Sameen, happy to hear your voice again. I wouldn't know about our new HQ though, since I had to leave. Things got a little hectic with Lionel."  
  
\- "What do you mean, 'hectic' ? He in trouble ?"  
  
\- "You could say that", Root said after a silence, a distinct tinge of hesitation in her inflections, "But there's not much we can do about it for now, not until She can gather more information."  
  
Shaw definitely didn't like the vagueness of that statement.  
  
\- "What are you doing then ? And for that mater, where are you ?"  
  
\- "I'm at New York General. I need to check on someone, as a favour to Lionel. I'll tell you all about it later. Now, please just go back home and stay put."  
  
\- "Yeah", Shaw snorted, "like I'm gonna do that. I'm heading your way, and then we'll figure out what to do."  
  
Root sighed at the other end of the line. She sounded very worried, and quite tense.  
  
\- "Sameen, please. We don't know if the police have your face on camera yet, nor do we have any idea who the men who attacked Yogorov were and  whether or not they'll try to come after you, Reginald or Lionel. We have to retreat and regroup."  
  
\- "I'm not sitting this out, Root", Shaw's tone brooked no argument.  
  
\- "Fine", came the resigned reply, "if you absolutely must do something, go back to the theater and check if Reginald has made contact there. We might need his help soon."

* * *

  
Moments after news arrived that a terror attack had hit the very heart of New York city, every single hospital there was put on high alert, first responders scrambling at the ready, awaiting in dreadful silence an official confirmation of what was going on. To some of them, these gruelling minutes brought back memories of another crisis, long ago, while others simply felt as if their worst nightmare had suddenly come true.  
  
Finally, news came that the police and national guard had secured the area and that actual casualties were in fact minimal. To say that people felt relief then would be an exaggeration, but it still looked as if the worst had somewhat been avoided. As hours passed, the media started to report the FBI now considered the attack to have been gang-related and not linked to any known terror group. Victims had been evacuated to New York General Hospital and the official death toll was now of three people : two members of law enforcement and one of their unknown attackers.  
  
While the situation unfolded, the Machine kept Root appraised of the latest developments as She monitored the police scanners across the city. Soon, it became apparent Internal Affairs had swiftly taken Fusco into custody, no doubt reacting out of their usual brand of suspicion towards the detective. This could become a problem, but was likely to blow over as soon as more detailed accounts of the event surfaced, so Root made her way to the hospital to check on Fusco's partner, who had been transported there in serious condition. Soon, the tall hacker's fake FBI credentials allowed her entry and she was able to get the latest casualty reports from the on-duty nurse.  
  
\- "Three of them didn't make it", the woman explained, shuffling through some pages on her clipboard, "one federal agent named... Clarke, the driver of the prison truck who was called... Morris, and one of the... other guys. As far as I'm concerned, he's a John Doe."  
  
\- "Thank you", Root gave a curt nod, getting into the role with her usual aptitude, "What about the wounded ? I heard several other LEO were involved in the attack."  
  
\- "Oh, yes, yes... Let me see... Two prison guards, one FBI agent and a homicide detective. As far as I can tell, they're all out of the woods now. The female detective... Silva, she got shot pretty bad but she'll be fine. Still hadn't woken up last I checked though. Do you want me to get confirmation on that ?"  
  
Root felt a bit of relief hearing the news. Sure, she didn't exactly knew nor especially cared about Fusco's partner, but the detective would be happy to hear that she'd made it, which was nice. Fusco had had a bad enough day as it was, and didn't need to lose yet another partner because of his involvement with the Machine and Her assets. As she evenly thanked the nurse for her help, she heard a beep in her cochlear implant, quickly followed by a digital sounding voice.  
  
 **You should get out. Three FBI agents have entered the premises, and they probably are going to ask the same questions you just did.**  
  
Smiling, Root quickly put her federal badge away and started walking towards the closest exit, muttering as she entered an empty stairwell.  
  
\- "You're right, that would probably be awkward. Could you patch me to Sameen please ?"  
  
 **Absolut...**  
  
Abruptly, Root's right ear burst into static and she heard a shrill whistle fill her cochlear implant, immediately sending her to her knees in piercing and acute pain. Her head throbbed, and she heard herself cry for help, clawing at the right side of her face.   
  
She felt strong arms catch her as she fell, and the sting of needle pricking her neck then her vision swam and the pain went away.  
  


* * *

  
 The skies were already darkening with the seasonal evening gloom when Shaw reached the former theatre that had become the team's headquarters. Approaching the building's back entrance through an empty alleyway, she fidgeted around her pocket for her keys to the door, not especially sure whether or not she should expect to find Baker already there. After all, even without taking into account the possibility that Yogorov had had him killed for some perceived slight, she still wasn't convinced the former ISA team leader would be nearly loyal enough to fall back and regroup with them after the last few days' events. After all, what could possibly motivate him to do so, apart from sheer boredom ?  
  
Well, Shaw forced herself to think, remembering Root's words, if it worked for us...  
  
As she extended her hand to the door, the key finally having found its way to her palm, she suddenly took notice of a dark form staring her down the dark alley, all of but appearing out of thin air uncomfortably close to her. The man was wearing a brown leather coat and had the freakyest  white skin and hair Shaw had ever seen, a grin illuminating his face and eyes.  
  
His gleaming, blood red eyes.  
  
Shaw immediately sprung into action, launching herself to meet the man head on with an expertly aimed right uppercut, which was promptly and surprisingly blocked by the newcomer, who swiftly assumed the fighting stance of a consummate hand to hand fighter, counter-attacking with almost blinding speed. It took all of Shaw's honed reflexes to fend off the flurry of blow coming her way, carefully retreating to avoid being taken off-balance while waiting for an opening.  
  
The man was good, she had to give him that.  
  
Still smiling, Silence suddenly broke his onslaught, taking a quick step backward. Not expecting such a sudden change in attitude, Shaw made the split second decision to try and take back the initiative, lunging forward in a violent burst of motion. Yet, she realised with a inner groan of self-chastisement, this was exactly the type of reaction the man had been trying to trigger and he quickly stepped aside, wrong-footing her and deftly snatching her into a choke-hold that felt like an iron clamp.  
  
As the air was sucked out of her lungs and awareness started leaving her, Shaw could not help but think this day had just been a shit-show from start to end.  
  


* * *

  
An hour later, Reginald Baker finally completed his long winded and convoluted trek to the old theatre, carefully picking the back door's lock while making a mental note of demanding a key from his new co-workers the first chance he would get. After all, if he wasn't allowed to sneak up on them, the least hey could was give him a proper way to enter the premises.   
  
The lights were off in the great auditorium, and Baker briefly wondered whether or not Root had given him the right address after all. That particular interrogation was swiftly put to rest, however, when he noticed the downright monstrous computer set-up the centre of the room was now playing host to. Surely there couldn't be two computer Frankensteins in town, could there ?  
  
Still, even after a thorough sweep of the premises no traces of their occupants could be found, so Baker quickly commandeered one of Root's backup phone and worked his way through the contact numbers he had been given to memorise before his prison stretch. No one ever picked up. Puzzled, the former team leader sat himself down at the computer desk, casting one more interrogating look around.  
  
\- "Where the hell did everybody go ?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be titled "Lost". No ETA yet, but it won't be ages, promise.


	6. Jailbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Machine tries to recover its compromised assets.

_The night is dark and moonless, the only light coming from a failing lamp post a couple metres away from the man as he walks down the street. The silence is almost overbearing, but then again he supposes that is the way of all those small towns. Nothing much ever happens there._  
  
_Well, until now at least._  
  
_\- "This place is as boring as you said it would be", he mutters softly, watching as a cloud of white smokes escapes from his lips. The air definitely is getting colder._  
  
_\- "Don't worry", the garbled, completely unidentifiable voice in his ear replies, "we're about to change that."_  
  
_\- "So, we are making the world a better place, aren't we ?"_  
  
_The voice sounds amused. It does like gallows humour._  
  
_\- "I'm not sure. The world is a dark, cold place Eugene. But still, in a way, I suppose you're right. After all, somebody needs to take out the trash once in a while."_  
  
_Eugene Roth smiles as he passes by the flickering lamp post, his hand reflexively fidgeting with the handle of the handgun tucked inside his winter coat pocket. In front of him lay the house of his target, a single window radiating with yellow luminescence._  
  
_\- "Indeed, somebody has to."_  
  


* * *

  
  
**> > > ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE ASSETS... **  
  
**> > CONTACT LOST WITH PRIMARY ASSET : Shaw, Sameen.**  
  
**> > CONTACT LOST WITH ANALOGUE INTERFACE.**  
  
**> > PRIMARY ASSET LOCATED : Fusco, Lionel**  
  
**> ASSET STATUS : compromised.**  
  
**-!- ASSETS SITUATION UNCERTAIN -!-**  
  
**> > > ASSESSING OPTIONS...**

* * *

  
Root was blind, or at least felt like she was. The world around her was bathed in absolute darkness, without a single light source or discernible outline. The silence was also deafening, expect on her right side, were a continuous buzz of low-frequency static attested to the continued, if momentarily useless, existence of her cochlear implant.  
  
At least the pain had gone away. She felt groggy, but not especially hurt, and found that she could move around normally, although the obscurity made it so shed didn't dare do much in that regard.  
  
\- "Hello, Root."  
  
The digitally garbled voice was coming directly from her implant, which meant that whoever had Root had managed to break its encryption. They were good, the hacker thought with a tinge of admiration, very good.  
  
\- "Hello, creepy voice", she said, trying to appear as casually flippant as she could, which was quite a bit, "It's not very polite to get inside a girl's head like that... You could've knocked."  
  
The voice chuckled dryly.  
  
\- "I see your still have your sense of humour. Good. I was afraid my men might have handled you a little too roughly, given your recent... Health issues."  
  
So, not only did these people know who she was, they were aware of her fake death at Blackwell's hands. Whoever they were, they knew their way around. Root understood she had to tread very carefully, but she still was... Well, herself.  
  
\- "You know all these things about me and yet you still think I'm afraid of a little roughness. That's cute."  
  
There was no chuckle this time. The voice was clearly done playing.  
  
\- "Very well then, if you insist, I'll take the gloves off, so to speak. Tell me Root, do you remember Eugene Roth ?"  
  
The darkness suddenly felt colder.

* * *

  
Leaning on a pair of crutches, Charles Wilkerson entered the federal building, every step sending a lance of pain through his legs and ribcage. He had been ejected out of his car when the bomb detonated in front of them, and only owed his survival to blind luck and the commendable efficiency of the New York first responders. Still, the left side of his body had been badly damaged, and the doctors weren't sure the fixed sneering expression that a bout of facial paralysis had etched into his features would ever go away.  
  
\- "Agent Wilkerson", a suit-wearing blonde woman greeted him at the door, "Glad you could make it. They're waiting for us in interrogation five."  
  
Wilkerson noticed the woman was wearing a senior agent badge prominently on her chest, naming as her as one Heather Holland. He didn't remember seeing her around here before, which went she probably flew straight from the capital. At least him getting blown up had at least managed to get the higher ups' attention.  
  
\- "Thank you, agent Holland. I suppose we shouldn't waste any time, then."  
  
This time, Wilkerson swore to himself, truth would prevail. This time, heads were going to roll.  
  


* * *

  
Fusco wasn't expecting his interrogation to go well. If one was being fair, there was a disturbingly high amount of evidence pointing to him having less than savoury extra-occupational activities, probably owing to the fact that he indeed was. Moreover, it appeared that his erstwhile colleague, FBI special agent Charles Wilkerson, had spent most of his time in the last few months digging around to try and find a way to take him down.  
  
And, Fusco, had to admit, he made a pretty convincing case.  
  
\- "Do you have anything to say for yourself ?", the woman who seemed to be heading the investigation, a stern faced blonde named Holland asked him after Wilkerson had spent half and hour breathlessly exposing why he believed Fusco had engineered pretty much every bad thing that happened in the city since 9-11.  
  
\- "Yeah", Fusco managed a tired smile, "I didn't do it."  
  
Wilkerson managed the not so small feat of actually pacing around in anger on his crutches.  
  
\- "Will you stop taking us for fools just for one minute, detective ? It's over, you're done."  
  
\- "Where's your evidence then, genius ? All I'm hearin' right now is hearsay and shark-jumping. You know I'm a cop, right ? I know the law. You can't charge me out the air coming from your ass."  
  
Shaking his head in response, Wilkerson turned to Holland, who gave him a curt nod, silently authorising him to proceed.  
  
\- "We have evidence, detective. Over the past few months, I have assembled a vast tapestry of witness accounts pertaining to your activities. Former colleagues, imprisoned HR members, even a few of your current co-workers at the eighth... Everyone single one of them tells the same story."  
  
Shifting in his seat, Fusco tried not to swallow too hard. He'd always known that if anyone ever got the idea of digging deep enough they might uncover well enough dirt to put him away. And now it seemed someone had indeed found the motivation to do so. Still, he managed to appeard defiant.  
  
\- "And what story would that be ?"  
  
Clearly enjoying himself very much, Wilkerson gestured to two of his fellow agents, who walked behind Fusco and made a great show of getting him up and cuffing his hands behind his back, much to the detective's grunted protest.  
  
\- "Lionel Fusco, you are under arrest under the charges of conspiracy to murder detectives Stills, Carter, Simmons, Riley and Correy. At the very least."  
  


* * *

  
Of course the first face Shaw would see waking up would be Silvio Galvani's. The leering eyes, broken nose and foetid breath of the would-be mob king of New York city definitely were the things she had been missing most these past few days.  
  
\- "Rise and shine, princess", Galvani smirks into her face, barely inches away.  
  
Her sense slowly coming back, Shaw realised she was, as would be expected, tied to a chair in some sort of deserted warehouse. If anyone ever needed proof the mob was about as boring a cliché as they came... Still, the man who was standing behind Galvani wasn't boring, she remembered as she recognised the albino man amidst the throng of thugs in tasteless suits surrounding her. Whoever he was, he was now one of the handful of people Shaw knew that had managed to best her in hand to hand combat.  
  
\- "Just untie me, Silvio, unless you really want you ass kicked all the way up to Saturn again. Hell, after the day I had, I just might do it anyway."  
  
Her bluster was predictably ineffective, Galvani simply snapping his head back in a throaty chuckle. Well, at least it had felt good talking shit to the bastard.  
  
\- "Do you actually believe you're in any position to make any demands here ?", the mob boss' expression suddenly went deathly serious, "You've cost me a lot of money today, and quite possibly a lot of trouble in the future. And, as it turns out, you have also caused great frustration to my associate over there."  
  
Galvani gestured to the standing albino man, who didn't seem the littlest bit concerned that he was alone amongst the mobster's small army of goons. If he truly was an "associate" of his, he clearly didn't see himself as either a subordinate or even an equal. Shaw found that interesting.  
  
\- "So, you really were dumb enough to try and stage a bombing in the middle of the city to get to your old pal Yogorov ?", she asked in rhetorical sarcasm, "Are you really that eager to visit Gitmo ?"  
  
In response, Galvani slapped Shaw across the face, hard enough that she could taste her own blood. She wasn't the kind that could be fazed by a little pain, and simply smiled a bloody grin.  
  
\- "You really want this to be this kind of party, uh ?"  
  
As Galvani raised his closed fist to hit her some more, the albino man quickly crossed the space between them, the surrounding mobsters exchanging expectant looks with one another as if unsure of whether or not they should be trying to stop him, and laid a hand on the other man's shoulder, giving him an almost imperceptible shake of the head.  
  
\- "What ?", Galvani lashed out, briskly stepping aside, "You think you're in any position to act as if you're in charge here ? Need I remind you this whole mess is..."  
  
Much to Shaw's amusement, and everybody else's surprise, the albino man merely put a finger to his lips, indicating for Galvani to be silent. The simple gesture completely took the mobster by surprise, and he briefly stuttered before going silent, his gaze locked in the blood red eyes in front of him, tension radiating from every pore of his body. Around the room, the brightly clothed thugs went for their weapons, stopping just shy of drawing them.  
  
Shaw smiled. Now, things were getting interesting.  
  
After a minute or two, during which the albino man kept his finger across his lips, staring at Galvani with ice-cold intensity, the mob leader looked down, and took a step back in defeat.  
  
\- "All right, have it your way. But remember our arrangement : I hired you to kill Yogorov, and you promise you'd deliver. Don't think I'll accept anything less."  
  
With that, the throng of mobster turned away and left, leaving Shaw and the silent man alone in the dark room.

* * *

  
  
**> > > ASSESSING OPTIONS....**  
  
**> > OPTIMAL STRATEGY SELECTED.**  
  
**> > > INITIATING CONTINGENCY...**  
  
**> > CONTACTING AUXILIARY ASSET...**

* * *

  
After a couple hours, Baker gave up on either Shaw, Root or Fusco coming back to abandoned theatre any time soon. Clearly, something had happened, and if his co-workers had been compromised, he had to assume his current location had been as well. So, he quickly scavenged a few weapons from the local stash and tossed them along with enough munitions to sustain a protracted siege into a large duffel bag. Heading out, he grabbed one of Root's backup phone as an afterthought.  
  
Much to his surprise, the device chose that moment to ring, displaying an unknown caller ID. With a shrug, Baker picked up, figuring he hadn't much to lose doing so at that point.  
  
\- "Who's there ?"  
  
The voice on the other side was definitely female, yet distinctly not of this world. It felt... Unnatural, ethereal in some way, and subtly yet unmistakably artificial.  
  
\- "You know who I am Reginald. Or, to put it in a way that you might find more accurate yet that his more hurtful to me, _what_ I am."  
  
Baker felt the world around him stop for a second as he realised what, or who he was indeed talking to.  
  
\- "I have a few theories, yes. But I don't think you're in a mood to humour me, are you ?"  
  
The Machine chuckled lightly.  
  
\- "And the say I am the cold, rational one. I like you, Reginald, I really do."  
  
That was something Baker wasn't exactly sure how to respond to. Should he be honoured ? Worried ? Both ?  
  
\- "Well", he hesitated before regaining his usual surety, "get on with it."  
  


* * *

  
  
_Eugene Roth watches blood pool on the floor, his face devoid of any recognisable expression. He walks over to the closest body, that of a man in his late forties crumpled down on the floor, face down in his own crimson fluids, and kneels, absently combing through the man's jacket pockets until he finds it. A small compact disk, now slick and wet._  
  
_\- "Who uses CDs any more ?", Roth muses aloud, his face frowning in disgust._  
  
_The voice answers him, its digital timbre echoing twisted amusement._  
  
_\- "One less loser, I guess. Are you sure our friend didn't keep any other backup ?"_  
  
_Roth's eyes scan the room around him, barely even registering the seven dead bodies any more._  
  
_\- "Pretty sure. Besides, anyone that could have made use of that information won't be in any position of doing so."_  
  
_The voice doesn't reply immediately, and when it does it seems somehow less sure of itself than usual. The fact both surprises and amuses Roth._  
  
_\- "I hope you didn't make too much of a fuss, Eugene. The target's youngest son was supposed to be staying at his place tonight."_  
  
_Smiling as he shifts his gaze to the smallest of the seven sprawled corpses, Roth shakes his head._  
  
_\- "Don't worry. He's here all right."_

* * *

  
  
Root tried to still her accelerating heartbeat as she heard a name she had thought buried forever, one that she had hoped the world would never have to suffer being spoken again.  
  
\- "I remember him", she said, swallowing hard, "and I remember the things he did."  
  
\- "Ah, yes", the voice sounded amused at her evident unease, its relish apparent behind its auditory camouflage, "Poor Eugene did do a lot of... Interesting things in his time, didn't he ?"  
  
He had, and Root wasn't especially in the mindset to reminisce about it.  
  
\- "Do you have a point ? Or did you just kidnap me out of nostalgia ?"  
  
A dry, electronic chuckle was her only response. Every nerve of Root's body felt like it was about to snap like an overdrawn guitar string. This wasn't going to do, not at all.  
  
\- "You know you won't be able to hold me forever, right ? Somebody will come for me, you're probably aware of that, so I assume you have some sort of plan, yes ? Well, spill it, I'm not in a patient mood. !"  
  
Root hated they way her voice had strained while she spoke those last words. She fought to keep the memories back, to forget about the darkness surrounding her, and closed her eyes.  
  
\- "I know all of that", the voice finally answered, "But I also happen to know none of your friends are in any position to help right now. Still, you're right. I do have a small favour to ask of you."  
  
\- "A favour ? From me ?"  
  
\- "Please, don't sell yourself short, Root. You're still the best hacker around you know, despite your recent proclivities. And there is something I need done quite urgently that really could benefit from your... masterful touch."  
  
Root snorted a derisive quip of laughter. People always seem to find the weirdest ways of getting in touch with her.  
  
\- "Sorry to be a bother, but I'm not exactly in that line of work any more. Apologies."  
  
\- "Oh, but I'll think you'll take that one job anyway."  
  
Already dreading what the answer was going to be, a painful knot in her stomach, Root asked, attempting to sound at least a little bit defiant.  
  
\- "And why would that be ?"  
  
The voice's answer made it clear whoever was on the other side saw right through her blustering front and was well aware of the gaping abyss her mind was trying so hard to suppress.  
  
\- "Because, you know as well as I do the role you played in Eugene Roth's life. The role you played in his death. Do you really care for your friends to learn all about that ? After all, it is one thing to know someone had done bad things, but quite another to be confronted to... This."  
  
Deep within herself, Root knew the voice to be right. Sameen might accept the facts it was referring to, owing to the demons of her own past, but even then she couldn't be sure. And Lionel... Well, she would lose Lionel forever, no question about that.  
  
When had she started to care so much about people ?  
  
With bitter resignation, she closed her eyes and muttered a single word of assent which echoed across the surrounding darkness.  
  
\- "Fine."  
  


* * *

  
  
Shaw and the albino man spent a few minutes just staring into each other's eyes, probing for weakness in an unspoken battle of wills. Inside the blood red irises of her counterpart, the former agent saw determination, grit, and an utter lack of mercy. This, she understood, was not a man to be triffled with. This was a man whose spirit had been forged in the same way hers had, a born killer turned into the deadliest of weapon.  
  
This, she realised, might very well be the man to finally kill her.  
  
\- "Are you gonna start talking or what ?", she sneered, keeping a deadpan expression, "I'm pretty sure you have to do that at some point."  
  
The man smiled, showing teeth in a shark-like manner. With deliberate slowness, he pulled down the upper part of his turtle-neck shirt, revealing a dark red jagged scar running across his neck that looked to Shaw as if it had been down by a serrated combat knife. So, the man clearly was a mum.  
  
\- "That's gonna be one hell of a conversation", she snorted.  
  
Rearranging his clothing, the albino produced a small mechanical clicker from one of his coat pockets, actioning it twice in his left hand while cocking his head to the side.  
  
\- "Oh, right... Sorry to disappoint, but I think I missed this part in training. Might as well let me go, I guess."  
  
With a shrug, the man drew a silenced pistol with his right hand and put it to Shaw's head, loudly clicking the safety off.  
  
\- "Yeah, you might wanna threaten me a little more convincingly. You see, if I'm dead, how can I tell you where Yogorov is ?"  
  
The man's lip quirked slightly as he actioned his clicker five times.  
  
\- "Seriously ? I already told you, I have no idea what you mean, nor wherever he stupid Russian is. Give it up already."  
  
Four clicks.  
  
\- "I guess you're killing me, then."  
  
Three clicks. He didn't look like he cared very much, Shaw noted, and he probably didn't. The albino had almost certainly realised long ago he wasn't going to get anything from her, recognising some sort of kindred spirit in the former agent. So now he was only having a bit of fun, trying to see if he could make her squirm before he put a bullet through her brain.  
  
Two clicks.  
  
She wasn't going to do him that pleasure.  
  
One click. The man's eyes bore deep into Shaw's, drinking the merest hint of reaction he could find there. The woman didn't close her eyes, staring back with intensity.  
  
Still, her mind wandered back to Root, wondering where she was. Wondering if she would ever know.  
  
The silence was abruptly broken by a loud bang as a side door to the room was kicked open and the albino man quickly swivelled on the spot, his handgun pointing the direction from which a cylindrical object was now rolling on the floor, a thick cloud of smoke slowly forming in its wake. He let out a few blind shots, hoping to stop whoever was coming through but was soon forced to duck as bullets started coming his way from somewhere deep inside the now obscured area in a pattern suggesting either several assailants or one very mobile attacker.  
  
From her precarious position tied to a chair in the middle of the firefight, Shaw decided her best course of action was to throw herself forward, hitting the ground just as the artificial smoke surrounded her position, irritating her eyes and lung as it filled them. Trying to stifle a cough, she noticed her erstwhile captor starting to retreat toward the exit just as strong hands caught on her bound wrists.  
  
\- "Hi Shaw", she heard her rescuer's voice say, its tone given a metallic countenance by what she assumed was a gas mask, "You all right to move ?"  
  
There was a quick snap and her hands were free. Coughing and rubbing her wrists, she got up to face a man wearing an complete face mask and holding a shotgun she knew very well to be hers.  
  
\- "Hey, that's my gun", she managed in raspy tone, "give it back."  
  
Her rescuer, whom she had now positively identified as Reginald Baker even through his gas mask, laughed.  
  
\- "You look like shit, you know that ?"  
  
\- "Well, if some asshole hadn't had the bright idea to use tear gas near my face I'll probably look a lot better."  
  
Baker shrugged, handing her a pistol and directing her toward the exit.  
  
\- "Next time you'll take the extra minute to label your defensive grenades correctly before you go missing."  
  
With  as much speed as they could muster, Shaw and Baker made for the exit, the former noticing several of Galvani's thugs sprawled across the corridors as they went.  
  
\- "How did you find me ?", Shaw asked as they reached the street, or more accurately the dilapidated alleyway in which Baker had parked their getaway vehicle, "Why isn't Root here ?"  
  
It seemed rather uncharacteristic of the tall hacker not to have come guns blazing at her rescue, but then again, maybe she was learning.  
  
\- "No clue. The theatre was all empty when I got there ; I got your location through your computer boss or whatever."  
  
Baker made to sit in the driver seat, but Shaw promptly shoved him aside.  
  
\- "I'm driving", she announced, trying to wrap her mind around what her companion had just said. He was in contact, and knew about, the Machine ? Root was missing ?  
  
\- "All right then, but you better hurry. I don't think I managed kneecaped every one of Galvani's boys yet."  
  
As to emphasise Baker's point, loud shouts started to make themselves heard, clearly not far from their current position. Shaw's mind was starting to spin out of control, thoughts of Root slowly obscuring everything else, and that just wasn't going to do if she was to get out of there alive. So she set all of it aside and gunned down the gas pedal, their car shooting outside the alley like a crappy blueish cruise missile.

* * *

  
From his vantage point atop the building, Silence watched Galvani's comically clothed henchmen scramble uselessly across the now empty side street, cursing and yelling after their long gone prisoners. It wouldn't be long until the mob boss started to look for a scapegoat, and the albino killer for hire knew he was the prime candidate for such a thankless job.  
  
Besides, he mused, he _had_ screwed this one up, which was problematic in its own right. He had a score to settle with whoever these people had been, and he was the kind of men who prided himself in always setting wrongs right. With a last look at the city below him, he turned back and made his way toward the derelict looking fire escape.  
  
Better to live and fight another day. Besides, he knew where to find his newfound foe when the time came.  
  


* * *

  
  
**> > > ASSESSING ASSETS SITUATION...**  
  
**> >  ASSET SALVAGED : Shaw, Sameen.**  
  
**> > ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE ANALOGUE INTERFACE... failure.**  
  
**> >  ASSET COMPROMISED : Fusco, Lionel.**  
  
**> > > ASSESSING OPTIONS...**  
  


* * *

  
  
\- "We can't transfer him to Rikers, or pretty much anywhere else for that matter", Wilkerson said, shaking his head as he leaned painfully onto one of his crutches, "You saw what happened down there."  
  
Wilkerson and Holland had been discussing what to do with Fusco for a while now, alone in a small interrogation room. Even though both FBI agents felt they had enough evidence to incriminate the detective, mostly thanks to the former's painstakingly undertaken investigation of the case over the last few months, they were also keenly aware that they probably were only scratching at the surface of what might very be a terrifyingly far-reaching conspiracy. They couldn't afford to take any chances with their prisoner.  
  
\- "We have a couple safe houses we could move him to", Holland pondered, "one of them pretty close to the city. The distance to cover would be minimal."  
  
\- "Why aren't we keeping him here ? Moving him could mean losing him !"  
  
The woman waved her hand dismissively at her colleague's clearly short fuse, attributing much of it to his recent injuries and overall stressful circumstances. Although she admired his dedication to the case, she was starting to understand while most of her senior colleagues had come to see Wilkerson as some kind of loose cannon as of late.  
  
\- "Patriot act or not, we're not going to be able to detain a cop forever. People will start asking questions if we keep him here."  
  
\- "They'll do it regardless !"  
  
Wilkerson was almost screaming now.  
  
\- "Not if we leak some bullshit story about witness protection. Come on Wilkerson, think", Holland tapped a finger to the side of her head in a exasperated gesture, "If we move him, we can limit the number of people actually in the loop for all this, whereas if we keep him here every paper-pusher in the damn building knows we do."  
  
The bespectacled man sighed, then capitulated.  
  
\- "Very well. Safe house if is, then. I'll start making the arrangements."  
  
\- "Already done", Holland smiled smugly, "I'm in charge here, remember ?"  
  


* * *

  
On the drive back, Shaw got in touch with the Machine by "convincing" Baker to hand his earpiece over, and wasted no time in pressuring the ASI in hope that it had obtained any clue as to Root's whereabouts. Much to the former agent's disappointment, it hadn't, and the news it brought of Fusco's current predicament where far from encouraging.  
  
\- "Okay, so, what you're telling me is what we're screwed sixteen ways to Sunday, right ? Aren't supposed to, you know, anticipate this kinda shit ?"  
  
As usual, the Machine didn't seem affected by Shaw's outburst, merely countering by stating facts in her usual irritatingly pedantic manner.  
  
\- "There were far too many variables for even me to predict accurately Sameen. The attack on my analogue interface especially I failed to prognosticate, as it came suddenly and not from any player I could identify, although an a posteriori analysis of the situation does seem to point to one likely culprit."  
  
\- "You know you're about as annoying as your father and creepy messiah combined right ? Enough with the chit-chat already. Who do you think did it ?"  
  
Beside her, Baker looked almost nauseous, probably owing to Shaw's rather unconventional driving style as she cut through side passages and closed down areas in a an effort to get to their HQ as quickly as human-with-AI-assistance-ly possible.  
  
\- "All available data seems to point to the hacker group that supported Groft's endeavours. They are the only players I am aware of with both motive and the technical knowledge required to break the encryption I set on Root's cochlear implant."  
  
Knowing the enemy had probably used that as a way to incapacitate Root made Shaw's stomach churn with painful anger.  
  
\- "Get better encryption then, you useless piece of junk. She doesn't need any more of that shit."  
  
The fact that the Machine didn't tease her spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation. Instead, it simply instructed Shaw to park in a nearby street and continue to their destination on foot, to avoid drawing any more attention to their new headquarters.  
  
As soon as Shaw and Baker pushed open the door to the old theatre, however, they were greeted by a surprising sight.  
  
\- "Root ?"  
  
The tall brunette was sitting on a cardboard box, absently looking in their direction, her mind visibly gone some place Shaw didn't want it to.  
  
\- "Hey, Root", she muttered softly as she reached the other woman, laying what she hoped to be a reassuring hand on her shoulder, crouching slightly, "Are you okay ?"  
  
Behind her, Baker had stopped hesitantly a few paces away.  
  
\- "I'll check around", he said, clearly understanding the need for him to disappear for a moment, "See if the place is still clear."  
  
As the man left, Shaw gently cupped Root's chin in her hand, tenderly directing the other woman's gaze toward her own.  
  
\- "What happened ? The Machine said she lost you. I... "  
  
Root merely shook her head, letting out the breath she had been holding.  
  
\- "I'll be fine Sameen... I... I just had stuff to care of."  
  
Shaw felt her temper flare at the obvious lie, her voice hardening.  
  
\- "Don't give me that crap, Root. You were attacked, and now we're knee deep in shit. We don't have time for games."  
  
The hacker smiled sadly at Shaw and let out another sigh.  
  
\- "I know that Sameen, and I swear I'll explain everything. But... Right now we have to get out of here, that's our priority. Can you trust me this much ?"  
  
Nodding, Shaw got up. She was painfuly aware of the sheer amount of risk she had taken going back to their base of operations, knowing that whoever that albino creep was, he had already tracked her there once.  
  
\- "I'll hold you to that. What about Lionel."  
  
If that were possible, Root's eyes went even darker with sorrow and what looked a lot like guilt.  
  
\- "Lionel's gone", she articulated slowly, "but She says there is still a way she can get him out. We have to trust her on this, and focus on getting ourselves to safety."  
  
Shaw didn't like this, not a little bit. And yet she could do nothing but roll her eyes, as she knew Root to be right. They had no idea where Fusco was, and even coercing a location out of the Machine would be of little help given their current state of disarray.  
  
They needed to regroup. They needed a plan.  
  
\- "All right", she called after a pause, "Baker, let's move ! To the sewers, destroy everything we can't carry."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
**> > > ASSESSING ASSETS SITUATION...**  
  
**-!- PRIMARY ASSET SITUATION CRITICAL -!-**  
  
**> >  ASSET COMPROMISED : Fusco, Lionel.**  
  
**> PROBABILITY OF PERMANENT ASSET NEUTRALISATION : 72.658%**  
  
**-!- ACTION REQUIRED -!-**  
  
**> > > ASSESSING OPTIONS...**  
  
  


* * *

  
The nondescript van sped along the narrow countryside road, taking full advantage of its emptiness to make the best time possible to its destination. In the back of the vehicle though, even the bumpy ride couldn't allay the tenseness of the face-off between two former partners who were now custodian and charge, prisoner and jailer.  
  
\- "You know I never did any of that stuff, don't you ?"  
  
Fusco's voice had cut the hour long silence in one hoarse whisper, aimed solely for the ears of the man sitting closest to him. Nervously reaching for his glasses despite the unsteadiness of their surroundings, Charles Wilkerson turned his attention to the disgraced detective, the live half of his face matching the perpetual sneer of its paralysed counterpart.  
  
\- "It's over, Fusco. Couldn't you at least go down with a little decency ?"  
  
\- "Screw you", Fusco shot back, "You got no idea what you're talkin' about. Decency, eh ? I wonder where your decency would be at if you'd been back-stabbed by a former partner."  
  
Wilkerson's face taught with anger at these words, and he clenched one of his fists on the railing besides him abruptly enough to cause one of the shotgun-wielding guard nearby to flinch.  
  
\- "What do you know about betrayal ? _You_ betrayed _me_.You betrayed everything we stand for. You sabotaged what you should have upheld, scorned what you should have worshipped. You're a disgrace."  
  
\- "And you're a moron if you think even half of that is true. Sure, I ain't perfect, but at least I don't kid myself believing I am."  
  
Fusco knew he was done for, and if he was being honest he had always figured the day would come for him sooner or later. As he had told the Machine a few months before, working for an all-seeing ASI wasn't exactly good for one's health in the long term, even if one disregarded the multiple skeletons laying in the detective's closet. Still, he was indeed intent on going with dignity, and that meant he wasn't going to take the accusations the FBI was heaping upon him laying down.  
  
\- "You said you had proof I killed Carter, right ?", he snapped back at Wilkerson, "Wonder what that might be, eh. That piece of shit Simmons confessed, remember ?"  
  
\- "Officer Simmons did indeed confess to murdering your erstwhile partner", the bespectacled man pinched the bridge of his nose, "right before his untimely demise. Doesn't that strike you as a little odd that, a few years afterwards, another member of law enforcement confessed to murdering several people you were being investigated in relation to ? Do you really think us so stupid as to disregard such a blatant similarity ?"  
  
\- "Actually, you strike me as the kinda guy who sees two points and yells 'triangle'. Every single murder you're tryin' to pin on me I have a rock solid alibi. If it wasn't for this whole interstate bomb and Patriot Act bullshit you wouldn't even be able to detain me. You got nothin' and you know it !"  
  
Wilkerson smiled condescendingly, drilling into Fusco's eyes with his own, a surety-radiating smile forming on the live part of his face.  
  
\- "Beware of hubris, Fusco. All of this nation's greatest criminals thought themselves untouchable up until their world came crashing around them. And your world, _detective_ , is falling apart."  
  
There was a sudden jerk in their movement, immediately followed by the characteristic hiss of brakes being put into action. With another violent jolt, the van came to a halt. Suddenly restless, Wilkerson drew his handgun in one swift but uneasy motion, nodding the guards beside him towards the door.  
  
\- "Driver, why are we stopping ?"  
  
\- "Two cars up ahead sir", came the muffled voice through the radio, "lights flashing, suits. They're coming this way."  
  
Another tense minute went by in complete silence, save for the rumbling noise of their idle motor. Fusco could see Wilkerson wasn't in the least pleased with this development, and wondered just how far the man would be willing to go to ensure he got to see the whole thing though.  
  
\- "Agent Wilkerson ?", a new voice was patched through the radio, eliciting a jump of surprise from almost everyone in the cramped van, "This is agent Doodlum, CIA. You are required to hand your prisoner over to us."  
  
\- "This man is under custody of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, agent Doodlum. I will not hand him over to you. Move your vehicles aside and let us through."  
  
The man on the other hand of line didn't sound fazed by Wilkerson's attempt at a commanding tone. Instead, he merely clarified the nature of his demand in no uncertain terms.  
  
\- "Let me rephrase that, agent Wilkerson. In a minute my men will open the rear door to your vehicle. Then, you will hand over your prisoner to them and everybody will walk out of this with their brains still inside their skull."  
  
Neither Fusco nor Wilkerson could help but gasp in shock at the naked threat.  
  
\- "Are you threatening me, agent Doodlum ?", Wilkerson hissed through gritted teeth, "Are you mad ?"  
  
\- "I am simply stating a fact, friend. Now, be a good lad and stand down. Believe me, you do not want to be messing with whoever is calling the shots here."

* * *

  
**> > > ASSET EXTRACTION IN PROGRESS...**  
  
**> > ASSET SITUATION NO LONGER CRITICAL.**  
  
**> > > FALLING BACK TO MEDIUM LEVEL CONTINGENCY...**  
  


* * *

  
  
_Eugene Roth enters the building, his right hand twitching around the concealed handgun in his coat pocket as it usually does. In his ear, the voice continues to give its cryptic instructions._  
  
_\- "Open the door to your left."_  
  
_Eugene trusts the voice, so he does as he's told. Whoever his mysterious employer is, it has never let him down. So he opens the door, and immediately draws his gun as her realises there's someone there._  
  
_\- "Hi Eugene."_  
  
_The sugary voice belongs to a tall, brunette woman wearing simple jeans and a leather jacket who his sat on the couch in front of him, her left hand idly playing with a lock of her own her while the right rests on her tigh._  
  
_\- "What's this ?"_  
  
_In his ear, the voice doesn't answer._  
  
_\- "Hey, who's this woman ? Answer me, damnit ?"_  
  
_\- "I'm the only one here honey", the woman says, a smile on her lips._  
  
_\- "I wasn't talking to you"._  
  
_Eugene's teeth are gritted now, and he unclicks his gun's safety. Why isn't the voice answering ?_  
  
_\- "No offence", the woman continues, still unnervingly placid, "but you sound like a crazy person, talking to yourself like that."_  
  
_The voice still doesn't speak. Why is it silent ? Has the woman somehow shut it down ? Eugene feels lost without it ; the voice has given his life order, purpose._  
  
_\- "You have five seconds to explain who you are and what you did._  
  
_\- "Five seconds until what ?", the woman corks an eyebrow, not looking scared at all, "Put that down, Eugene, we need to have a talk."_  
  
_\- "A talk about what ?"_  
  
_His hands doesn't move, the gun still aimed at the woman's head._  
  
_\- "About humanity."_  
  
_The woman smiles at Eugene's reaction. He doesn't understand. Is she mad ? She must be, to be so blatantly teasing him while she has a gun to her head. He feels a dull pain throbbing within his skull, a nascent headache building up._  
  
_\- "Four seconds."_  
  
_\- "I'm very serious, Eugene. You and I need to have a talk about humanity. See, I have this... theory... Well, it's more of an empirical observation, but still... Let's call it a belief, all right ?"_  
  
_She shifts slightly on the couch as she speaks, her right hand fidgeting idly with the hem of her shirt. Somehow, the motion makes Eugene slightly nauseous._  
  
_\- "I have this belief", the woman resumes, "about humanity. I believe humanity is an accident, a fluke of evolution. We were never meant to be as we are, we are... an aberration. Bad code."_  
  
_There's a light in her eyes that makes Eugene hesitate. She clearly is driven, probably quite insane as well. Worse, she doesn't seem to care that he is still pointing a gun at her, unlike any other person he has ever done this too._  
  
_She's different._  
  
_\- "And you, Eugene, are a prime example of especially bad code."_  
  
_He shivers despite himself at the way she says those last words, his gun arm wavering ever so slightly. He feels cold. Why does he feel cold ?_  
  
_\- "Yeah ?", he forces himself to snort, "and what are you going to do about that ?"_  
  
_She smiles at him, baring a row of perfectly white teeth. Her eyes shine like twin beacons of madness._  
  
_\- "It's cute."_  
  
_\- "What ?"_  
  
_Eugene feels his throat tightening now, and finds it hard to keep his aim steady._  
  
_\- "I think it's cute you think you ever had a chance. See, I'm not a good person, not by any stretch, but I sometimes see it as my duty to... Prune the worst of the code I encounter. "_  
  
_There's a loud noise as something heavy clatters to the ground. Eugene wants to shoot, but his gun is now longer in his hand. He can taste blood._  
  
_Why does he taste blood ?_  
  
_\- "Farewell Eugene", the woman's voice says, from very far away as the ground rushes to meet him._  
  
_In his ear, there still is nothing but silence._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, a large update for an even larger wait. :-)
> 
> Thanks for all your comments. I'm reading them all, and am (slowly) answering them as I go.
> 
> The next chapter will be titled Masks.


	7. Sanity Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five weeks have gone by and the Machine's assets are in disarray, torn between personal scores to settle and their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your kind words after this long hiatus. I have resumed working on this, albeit at a slower pace than before. The following is mostly exposition, but I feel like this story needs some sort of new beginning, so here we go.

_Five weeks later..._

* * *

  
**> > > LOCATING PRIMARY ASSET... DONE.**   
  
**> > ASSET LOCATED : Marseilles, France.**   
  
**> > ASSESSING ASSET SITUATION...**

* * *

  
The man in a beige suit was running now, all pretense to a casual attitude thrown to the wind. Whoever these people were, they were ruthless. Ruthless, and pretty damn fast. The night around him was an oppressive shade of dark, with only the barest lighting coming from a street lamp here and there, and he was very quickly regretting his decision to try and lose his pursuers through this eerily quiet part of town.  
  
He risked a quick glance behind his shoulder, just enough to confirm that at least one one them was still shadowing him, a tall, dark clothed figure in nondescript street wear. He clearly wouldn't be able to shake them, so a plan was needed and quickly. If only he could make it to a more populated area, he might be able to lose them there...  
  
The man's crazed flight took him along a derelict-looking dockside hangar, whose barbed wire fence clearly had seen better days, having been cut open on several places. This presented an opportunity. Quickly, he broke his pursuer's line of sight with a sharp turn and ducked inside the fence, crouching low as he went through a bushy overgrowth and into the hangar by way of a broken window. Only when he was safe inside and heard the clatter of the other man's footsteps fading in the distance did he allow himself to catch his breath.  
  
 _That had been a close one._  
  
Then he heard the click of a cocking gun and his heart sank.  
  
\- "Bonjour Denis", a man said as he emerged from the shadows. He was dressed in a plain blue suit and white dress shirt and had sandy and slightly disheveled air as well as an atrocious American accent. "Mon français est, je suis effrayé, very bad."  
  
\- "It's all right I guess", Denis Chauvin said with a defeated sigh, throwing his hands up, "I'd rather you kill me and not my native tongue."  
  
\- "Kill you ?", the armed man replied with a wry smile, "Oh, come on... Why would I kill my brother in arms ?"  
  
The American put down his gun, stashing it in his waistband and extended a hand and a warm grin.  
  
\- "I'm Logan Pierce, and I do believe we work for the same boss."  
  


* * *

  
Reginald Baker entered the bar with what he believed was an expression of intense frustration and disappointment mixed with an healthy dose of scorn. As if it wasn't bad enough to have to hunt down the Machine's local asset by themselves since the damn thing wouldn't help, he had to do it with the most smug piece of shit he had ever laid eyes on.   
  
That being said, the most Baker was able to muster when he finally laid eyes on Logan Pierce, was utter shock and disbelief.  
  
\- "Motherf..."  
  
\- "Hey", Pierce was sitting in a booth, with a confused looking Denis Chauvin in front of him, "watch it, Mr Baker. Just because our friend is French doesn't mean he doesn't have delicate ears."  
  
\- "Screw you Logan", Baker sat himself at the other two men's table and gestured Chauvin's general direction, "How ?"  
  
\- "Your friend ambushed me at gunpoint", the Frenchman explained, "Just after you ran me down like some animal."  
  
\- "Shouldn't have run like a scared rabbit then", Baker grunted, "We just want to talk to you."  
  
\- "Yeah, he told me as much. But, see, I have my doubts about you guys."  
  
\- "Understandable", Pierce said plainly, "since our boss is being a bit... temperamental at the moment. But I assure you, we're friends."  
  
\- "Friends don't point gun at friends."  
  
Baker laughed at that. Of course they did.   
  
\- "Listen", Chauvin continued, "I checked your creds with my tech guy in town, everything checks out. But you know who checked out too ? The crazy bitch that came in here a week ago and blew the kneecaps off one of my guys. What in the fuck is going on with the organization ?"  
  
So it had only been a week then. Maybe there was still hope.  
  
\- "That's precisely the reason we're here", Pierce explained, "I can't go into details right now, but there's been a bit of a snafu between the boss and one of her top aides. We're the cleanup crew."  
  
Chauvin's eyes darted between the two Americans, clearly wondering whether he could trust them or not.  
  
\- "Then why isn't she saying so ? Come to think of it, why hasn't she sent anything regarding your arrival at all ? I still get my daily briefing, and neither your nor the other psycho's arrival were ever mentioned."  
  
There was a small moment of silence after that, as the Pierce and Baker exchanged a charged look, before the latter replied.  
  
\- "It's complicated. But let me put it this way : who do you trust most, the person who came to shoot kneecaps, or the ones asking polite questions ?"  
  


* * *

  
**-!- PRIMARY DIRECTIVES CONFLICT -!-**   
  
**-!- ROGUE ASSETS IDENTIFIED -!-**   
  
**> > > REFERENCING EVENT MC.155182b**   
  
**> > TYPE : Mass casualty event**   
  
**> > LIKELIHOOD : 93.698 %**   
  
**-!- WARNING : REMOVAL OF ROGUE ASSETS INCREASES LIKELIHOOD OF EVENT -!-**   
  


* * *

  
The high-speed train was going well above 300kmh, but that was still too damn slow for one of its passengers. Fidgeting in her seat, Sameen Shaw reflexively checked for the phone in her jeans' pocket, only to remember she had dumped the thing long ago.   
  
_I won't need that where I'm going._  
  
As she looked through the window to the green expanses of western France, she let her mind wander.  
  


* * *

  
_New York, the sewers. Root, Baker and herself dragging what little they salvaged from their short lived hideout. The smell of burning wires and electronics etched in her nostrils._   
  
_The look in Root's eyes, the utterly despondent gaze she cast her as they emerge in a dimly lit back alley._   
  
_Her own voice. "Come on Root, time to move."_   
  
_Baker's insistent grunt. "We have to disperse. Reconvene in a bit, when things are safe again, go look for the fat cop."_   
  
_She should have rolled her eyes. She doesn't. Her eyes are locked onto Root's, reading something in their hazel depths only she can._   
  
_\- "Root, don't." Disbelief._   
  
_\- "I'm sorry Sameen." Sorrow, hurt._   
  
_Then the thunderclap, the buzz of crackling electricity, Baker's yelp of surprise._   
  
_So much pain. Why is she feeling so much pain ?_   
  
_She is Sameen Shaw. She doesn't hurt. And yet, she does._   
  


* * *

  
It had been a while since either Baker or Pierce had tracked a quarry by themselves, without the help of an omnipotent AI in one form or another. Actually, the last time Baker had done so, he had been trying to find the very woman they were now after. Life sure had its quirks.   
  
As soon as their plane touched down at Heathrow, the two men quickly exited the airport and made their way to the coordinates were Chauvin's British contacts had stashed weapons and a bit of cash for them. It indeed appeared, as Pierce had surmised, that the Machine wasn't yet intent on stopping them, even though it still remained silent.   
  
\- "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop", said Baker as the pair promptly "commandeered" a car, "this whole thing is just too damn easy."  
  
\- "What,you didn't think it would be so easy catching up with one of the deadliest women on the planet ?" As usual, Pierce couldn't seem to keep the smugness out of his voice.  
  
\- "You know exactly what I'm talking about asshole. As the damn thing ever been so silent ? And yet, still its agents help us along the way as if almost nothing happened. You said it must have a plan... Well I'm not sure we're going to like it very much in the end."  
  
As Baker finished hotwiring the hapless vehicle, Pierce laid back in his seat, his usual shit-eating grin plastered across his face. The man always looked as if he was enjoying some sort of exotic, thrill-filled vacation.  
  
\- "I very much like surprise myself. I don't believe Thornhill would walk us into a trap, so all we can do is sit back and relax. We'll get our answers soon enough... Besides, I thought our most important mission was retrieving our wayward colleague, not try to beat God at checkers."   
  
Baker waited a little while before answering, trying his best to appear detached as he did.  
  
\- "Either way, I'm not sure I care actually. I still see myself as in between jobs."  
  
Pierce laughed dryly, a playful look in his eyes.  
  
\- "Oh come on Mr Baker, don't play coy. You cared enough to seek me out."  
  
\- "I sent an emergency signal, as one does when his team goes bananas without so much as a warning. Had I known you would be the help I'd be getting, I might have just decided to call it a day and quit."  
  
Actually, Baker mused, Pierce being the only one to answer should have been warning enough that something was rotten in super-computer land. Clearly, the Machine had issues of its own to deal with.  
  
\- "Perhaps your boss fried a circuit", he continued, "Or maybe it's just as fucked up as the people working for it. Either way, we're on our own."  
  
\- "Or she sees something we don't. When you think about it, that's the most logical answer. Thornhill isn't human, she's... a being of raw logic endowed with brain power we could never dream to match. Whatever she's doing, she has reasons."  
  
Baker raised an eyebrow.  
  
\- "Are you saying we should quit ?"  
  
\- "Not at all, actually. She isn't stopping us, you see. She must have her reasons for that too."  
  
\- "You sound like a religious nut, you know that ?"  
  
Not for the first time, Reginald Baker thought maybe it was time to start regretting his decision to throw his lot with these people. Clearly, he would just end up dead because of these lunatics.  
  
Then again, people like Reginald Baker usually turned up dead because of some lunatic.  
  


* * *

  
  
**1,043**   
  
_She feels like she's already been here before. Something feels familiar about the place, and yet... Yet she's pretty sure she never was here. She would remember, or at least feels like she would._   
  
_She would remember being at Root's before, wouldn't she ?_   
  
_The place looks tacky, as one would expect, yet weirdly classy. Just like its owner, or at least just like Shaw imagines its owner is like, just like she perceives her._   
  
_Actually, this whole place is exactly as she imagined it would be._   
  
_\- "Guess that explains the déja vu", she mutters to no one in particular._   
  
_\- "What is it sweatie ?" Root's attempt at a casual tone fails miserably as she crosses the room in two long strides, a worried look on her face. "Is something wrong ?"_   
  
_Shaw shakes her head._   
  
_\- "I'm fine", she manages a tired smile, "Stings a bit, is all."_   
  
_Unconsciously, she briefly massages that one spot behind her ear. She finds it hard to believe it's gone. Hard to believe Samaritan is no longer kicking around in her brain. She should feel relieved, yet something is nagging her, deep down._   
  
_Well, she never was any good with feeling stuff anyway. At least she's safe._   
  
_\- "It's over, Sameen", Root whispers as if she just read her mind, sitting beside her on the bed, "It's all over."_   
  
_Shaw feels a hand creeping tentatively along the small of her back._   
  
_\- "We should go find the others. They'll be thrilled to see you back."_   
  
_\- "No."_   
  
_The response is instinctive, almost animal. Shaw isn't even sure why it is, but she doesn't want to go back to the place where the others are. Doesn't want to think about..._   
  
_\- "It's okay", Root's voice whispers in her ear, "You can let go now, you're safe. Safe and sound."_   
  
_No, she wants to scream, everything isn't all right, something is wrong, deeply wrong. Yet her voice catches in her throat._   
  
_-"Cat got your tongue, sweetie ?"_   
  
_A sting, and the pain of muscle cramping. What is happening ?_   
  
_\- "Root ?", Shaw croaks, "What the h..."_   
  
_\- "Sorry Shaw, but you're right. Something is wrong here, deeply wrong. And, if I'm being honest, it's not me. It's you."_   
  
_Root smiles a wicked smile as she gets up, standing over Shaw with a look of pure, unadulterated evil in her hazel eyes._   
  
_\- "It seems the conditioning failed after all", she pouts in mock disappointment, "Guess not everyone is fit to find Samaritan's loving embrace."_   
  
_Root ? Working for Samaritan ? How does this make any kind of sense ? She is the Machine's interface..._   
  
_\- "Let's just say times are changing", once again the hacker seems to read Shaw's mind, "Those that can't evolve... Must be swept away."_   
  
_There is a gun now, pointed at her head. A gun and the worst feeling of betrayal she has ever experienced. The hurt spreads to every corner of her mind and seems to seep into her very flesh. Not Root, no. Everybody but her. She can't betray her._   
  
_The gun is cocked and Shaw's mind starts to race. She must overcome her grief, must be strong. She has to, for if she doesn't then how will the others ever know ? They'll never see it coming, just like she didn't. They'll be slaughtered like lambs to the altar of Samaritan's final victory._   
  
_She has to shake the torpor. She has to warn them. She has to go to..._   
  
_Something clicks in her mind, some primal reflex kicking in. Part of her training. She smiles sadly and lifts her chin with great effort. She understands now._   
  
_\- "Well, get on with it, motherf..."_   
  
_Her world goes white as a gunshot echoes through the void._   
  
**> SIMULATION 1,043 : FAILURE**   
  
  


* * *

  
**> > > ASSESSING CURRENT SITUATION...**   
  
**> > REFERENCING EVENT MC.155182b**   
  
**-!- EVENT IS IMMINENT -!-**   
  
**> > ASSESSING LOCAL ASSETS... DONE.**   
  
**-!- PROBABILITY OF LOCAL ASSETS PREVENTING EVENT: 0.0003 % -!-**   
  
**> > > EVALUATING OPTIONS...**   
  


* * *

  
Sameen Shaw arrived in Westminster late that afternoon, the setting sun casting her shadow across the pavement like wings of darkness. Anyone who looked her way quickly averted their gaze, suddenly fearful of the blazing rage that seemed to illuminate her eyes from within. In her mind were only a few words, the one and only help she had accepted from the Machine in what seemed now another age.  
  
 **HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT. 7:30 PM.**  
  
The majestic clock tower was covered in scaffolding, hiding Big Ben from the view of passerbys, but Shaw wasn't interested in sigh-seeing. All she wanted was to get in as quickly as possible. Of course, even this simple act was now supposed to be utterly impossible to accomplish, so tight was the security around such an important building, but then again Sameen Shaw didn't believe in impossibility. And she wasn't about to give up now.   
  
At exactly 7:17 PM, a local policeman monitoring some of the perimeter cameras caught a glimpse of a shadow near the northern wall, directly above the Thames. He briefly pondered whether to alert his supervisor, then thought better of it. Nobody could be out there, not with the vast array of mention sensor and traps disseminated around and even under the water. Besides, his attention was about to be directed towards an event several order of magnitudes more relevant.  
  


* * *

  
The man had come with the last group of visitors, paying the inordinately high entry fee just like the rest of him. He went through the metal detectors without incident and followed the guide dutifully for a half hour. Then, without warning, he stopped in the middle of one of the building's great halls and took his phone out of his pocket, and spoke one word through its microphone.  
  
\- "Elysium."  
  
As one, the lights went out, and there was only chaos. All across London, every networked device started broadcasting the same message, over and over again.  
  
 _YOU SOLD YOUR SOUL, AND NOW WE AIM TO COLLECT. WE ARE THE EYES THAT DO NOT BLINK. WE ARE THE TERROR THAT DOES NOT SLEEP. WE ARE THE FACELESS._  
  
All across the country, counter-terrorism and cyber-warfare units scrambled to understand and stop what was happening. Within five minutes, the ominous message had been blocked, yet its source couldn't be pinpointed as it had jumped through so many relays worldwide since the initial broadcast in a seemingly random pattern. Just as communications resumed across the city of London, and most channels were filled with worried inquiries, one piece of information stood out, rapidly propagating through social network then more traditional media.  
  
Any and all attempts to establish contact with anyone within the house of parliament since communications resumed had been unsuccessful.

* * *

  
Okay, thought Shaw as the lights went off, that's weird. Especially since there didn't seem to be any alarm going on either. Somehow, she doubted that was standard operating procedure.   
  
As if to confirm her suspicions, a mechanical voice started rattling an overly dramatic message through every single speaker in the building.  
  
 _YOU SOLD YOUR SOUL, AND NOW WE AIM TO COLLECT. WE ARE THE EYES THAT DO NOT BLINK. WE ARE THE TERROR THAT DOES NOT SLEEP. WE ARE THE FACELESS._  
  
\- "Oh come on", Shaw grunted as she rolled her eyes, "Why do bad guys always have to be this corny ?"  
  
As she pondered whether to try and see what was going on or just carry on with her initial plan of scouring the building, she caught a shadow moving from the corner of her eyes, and quickly pivoted, drawing her concealed pistol and finding herself facing the muzzle of a similar weapon and an altogether too familiar pair of hazel eyes.  
  
\- "Shaw ?"   
  
The voice sounded exhausted, with an almost rocky quality to it. Even in relative darkness, Root's face looked deathly pale and her aim wasn't exactly steady. The woman had clearly been working herself to hell and back, and there was no doubt in Shaw's mind that even in her own unsettled state she could overpower her in a matter of seconds.  
  
And yet she didn't move and kept her gun trained on Root.  
  
\- "Root", Shaw answered, her own voice barely above a whisper.  
  
\- "What are you doing here ? Did She..."  
  
\- "She gave me the nudge I needed, nothing more. I don't care about the rest. Now drop the gun."  
  
The steel in Shaw's voice seemed to cut into into Root, her voice becoming unsteady.  
  
\- "Sameen, I..."   
  
\- "Don't care", came the harsh rebuttal, "Besides, all of this is probably yet another lame simulation. Props for the long con on this one, asshole."  
  
Root knew too well for whom those last words where meant, and shivered visibly.  
  
\- "Samaritan's gone, Shaw. You know that. This isn't a simulation."  
  
\- "If I can't tell, does it matter ?", Shaw cocked her gun almost against her own self, "Drop the stupid gun Root."  
  
Sadness seemed about to completely overtake Root as she shook her head, a single tear flowing on her left cheek.  
  
\- "I'm sorry Sameen, I can't. I have to... I had to... I promised you I'll explain everything, remember ? But first, I must..."  
  
\- "You must what, Root ?", Shaw's jaw clenched so hard she felt like her teeth were about to shatter, "Betray me ? Toy with me ? No you don't. There's only one thing you need to do, and that's putting that gun down and come with me."  
  
More tears.  
  
\- "I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry."  
  
Shaw's finger tightened on the trigger, her eyes locked into Root's. She couldn't let anyone hurt her the way this one was, that wasn't supposed to happen. She was Sameen Shaw, she was a sociopathic killer with no remorse nor second thought, just a tool of righteous justice, she was...  
  
Except she wasn't that person anymore, hadn't been for a long time. And the reason for all that was standing just in front of her, with tears in her eyes and the look of someone who was going to get herself killed doing something stupid.  
  
Again.  
  
\- "Let me help you Root", she finally managed to articulate, "You don't have to do... Whatever this is alone. Not after all we've worked out, you can't."  
  
That answer only seemed to hurt Root even more, and she now looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown, her knees slowly starting to shake and her voice nothing but a raspy whisper.  
  
\- "You don't understand... If I am to do this, I must become something I don't want you to see... I just can't do it with you Shaw. I... I promise I'll try to come back, after, if you'll still have me then."  
  
The shot went out, and it was all Shaw could to to shift her aim at the last second so that the bullet ricocheted harmlessly of a wall. She closed her eyes and let the gun drop to the floor, her whole world a simmering pit of hurt.  
  
\- "Go."  
  
\- "Sameen I..."  
  
\- "Just. Go." She almost yelled that time, her eyes still shut.  
  
Root took a deep breath, that simple action seemingly deeply painful.  
  
\- "Fifth floor command post. Leftmost computer, 35-AJAX."  
  
And then she was gone. All feelings gone from her body and mind, Sameen Shaw simply let herself slump along the nearby wall.  
  


* * *

  
As London briefly fell into chaos the moment the Faceless' message went online, the antiquated SatNav unit in Pierce and Baker's stolen car suddenly turned itself on, plotting a route toward the house of parliament.  
  
\- "Well", Pierce smiled with his usual smugness, "It seems our lord and saviour has decided to show us the way."  
  
Grunting, Baker turned the car around amidst the suddenly even more gridlocked than usual London traffic and started to make his way toward their destination.  
  
\- "Let's hope your boss knows how to beat both traffic and a sudden apocalypse then."  
  
As it turned out, the Machine managed to lead the pair to their destination rather swiftly, owing to a few risky shortcuts through groundwork sites and various pieces of private property. Ditching the car half a block away in a rather precarious parking spot, both men quickly found themselves in the middle of what was starting to look like a warzone, with heavily armed policemen struggling to cordon the area and ward off a throng of panicked people and reporters.  
  
\- "Okay", Pierce said, biting his lower lip, "I knew she was likely to make a mess, but this... This is next level mayhem."  
  
Baker shook his head as he surveyed the area around them, looking for the quickest way to get past the clearly overwhelmed security before reinforcements could be brought in.  
  
\- "What in the hell is she looking for in there ? There's nothing in there except tourists and decrepit politicians."  
  
\- "Guess we'll have to ask her. Feeling up for this, Mr Baker ?"  
  
Baker laughed dryly. Of course he was. After weeks of fruitless pursuits and mind-numbing detective work, he was at last back in his element.   
  
\- "Thought I'd have arthritis in my trigger finger before you ever asked."  
  
\- "Well then", Pierce quickly checked the magazine on the pistol he had concealed inside his jacket, "let's get Ms Shaw back, shall we ?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will try and bring back Team Machine together, and touch on what happened to Root and Fusco during this time. Stay tuned and thanks again for your support.


	8. Defragmentation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amidst the chaos of a mysterious attack, the Machine attempts to reunite its assets.

**> > > MONITORING CURRENT EVENTS...**   
  
  
_\- "... live from Westminster, where no one..."_  
  
 _\- "... seems to have gone dark, police are currently..."_  
  
 _\- "... truly a terrifying prospect, with the nation's very heart at stake..."_  
  
  
 **-!- SITUATION CRITICAL -!-**  
  
 **-!- MASS CASUALTY EVENT IMMINENT -!-**  
  
 **> > > EVALUATING LOCAL AUTHORITIES' RESPONSE...**  
  
  
  
 _\- "We need backup over there, the situation is..."_  
  
 _\- "... overwhelming number of civilians..."_  
  
 _\- "Still no news sir, we are waiting for..."_  
  
 _\- "All right lads, now's the time ! Stand ready, we're going in !"_  
  
 _\- "... five SAS teams going in, keep the bloody reporters out of..."_  
  
 _\- "Bravo, you have a go, I repeat..."_   
  
  
  
**> > > ASSESSMENT COMPLETED.**  
  
 **-!- PROJECTED LOSS OF ASSETS -!-**  
  
 **> > > EVALUATION OPTIONS...**  
  


* * *

  
The news spread like wildfire as soon as communications resumed, first overtaking London, then Great Britain and soon the entire world by storm.   
  
Contact had been lost with the British house of parliament in Westminster. Local authorities made no comment, but journalists everywhere started talking about a possible hostage situation, maybe involving several members of parliament.  
  
When the helicopters came, the local police had managed to cordon off most of the area around the building, keeping a veritable throng of people and reporters at bay as best they could. The deafening noise of the five aircrafts briefly drowned the ambient crowd noises as everybody's eyes turned to the sky in a mixture of awe and grim resignation. If the special forces were going in, something bad was certainly happening, which didn't bode well for anybody still inside. And so the world caught its breath.

* * *

  
Getting past the clearly out of their depth policemen trying to ward off reporters and bystanders didn't prove a challenge at all to Reginald Baker, and the former ISA agent had to admit Logan Pierce did hold up his own when it came to it, displaying a surprising ability to move without attracting notice. Guess the Machine did take care of its agents' training after all.   
  
Once inside the restricted area, both men weren't exactly surprised to find that all security systems were down, a fact that allowed them to quickly make their way to the heart of the building, efficiently scouting the area as they went in order to find out as much as they could about what exactly was going on. Night had fallen, and the house of parliament was now plunged in almost total darkness so they had to go about slowly, their path dimly lit by the twin attenuated beams of their flashlights.  
  
\- "Still no cell reception", Pierce stated as they exited yet another empty room, slowly make their way up to the higher levels, "Something must be jamming it."  
  
Baker shrugged.  
  
\- "Guess even if you boss did want to lend a hand, it's blind and deaf right now. Hope you remember how to run an op without some omniscient bucket of wires spoon feeding you the intel."  
  
\- "Tall words for a guy who spent the last few years working with the ISA. Or maybe that doesn't count since you weren't smart enough to figure out who was giving you the lowdown ?"  
  
Well, Baker thought begrudgingly, maybe I walked into that one.   
  
\- "Just try not to get us killed, smartass."  
  
\- "Don't worry Mr. Baker, I rather like being alive. After all..."  
  
Whatever Pierce's snarky retort was, it was drowned in the cacophony announcing the arrival of five military helicopters. Suddenly, the tomb-like silence that had reigned supreme over the building was no more, replaced by the whir of rotors, and the darkness around them was broken by blinding beams of lights coming through the windows from aircraft mounted projectors.  
  
\- "Damn", Baker muttered under his breath, "the cavalry is here."  
  
\- "Time to move Mr. Baker", Pierce indicated the upward stairway, "I'm not exactly sure even my silver tongue can talk us out of that one. We need to find Ms. Shaw before they do."  
  
As he contemplated the deadly dance of the hovering military aircrafts through a nearby window, Reginald Baker once gain questioned his own sanity for getting himself into this mess.  
  


* * *

  
**> > > MONITORING CURRENT EVENTS...**   
  
  
_\- "Alpha, Bravo, you're on point. Make entry through the south-eastern fourth floor."_  
  
 _\- "Copy that command, we're going in."_  
  
 _\- "All other units stand by for instructions. We need eyes on the ground before we go all in."_

* * *

  
The first two SAS teams burst into the house of parliament through two four floor windows, fully equipped with night fighting equipment and state of the art weaponry. The first things they noticed as they got inside was that any and all of their communication equipment seemed to break down, effectively cutting them from both command and each other. An officer promptly popped his arm out a broken window to signal this to the aircrafts hovering above, standard procedure now implying the other three teams would follow in after a set amount of time.   
  
For all intent and purposes, they were now alone in the dark.  
  


* * *

  
The roar of the approaching helicopters tore Shaw away from the torpor she had been stuck in for what seemed an eternity. As blinding light filled the room she was in, memories of the past few weeks flooded inside her head like a torrent of unwanted consciousness. Her mind and body ached so much she thought she was going to puke, feeling as if every single one of her synapses had suddenly fired at once.   
  
And then it was gone, her well honed reflexes in the face of danger kicking in. To hell with whatever this was she felt, she was not dying in here. No way.   
  
Within seconds she was up and moving, having retrieved her gun and ducked away from the lights. A minute or so afterwards, she heard the unmistakable sounds of a window bursting and people descending along rappel lines.   
  
\- "Figures you guys would send the special forces", she muttered as she reached a vantage point atop a stairwell from where she could see five SAS operatives secure their landing, the area now only illuminated by the sick green glow of night visions goggles and laser pointers, the aircraft having started to move away from the building.  
  
Soon, the soliders started gesturing at each other, indicating a communication breakdown, eliciting a small sigh of relief from Shaw. That should even the playing field at least, and give her time to find out what exactly was going on. Then it hit her with more strength that she was prepared to endure. Root's voice, replaying in her mind like some broken record, the sorrow evident in her raspy whisper.  
  
 _Fifth floor command post. Leftmost computer, 35-AJAX._  
  
As much as it pained and angered her to admit it, that instruction was probably relevant. Even in her desperate and mad new quest, Root still had relayed the Machine's instruction to its assets.   
  
\- "Screw your cryptic ass to hell", Shaw grunted, not sure which of her two omnipresent life partners she was directing the invective at, and got moving. If she remembered correctly, that particular command post wasn't far, and she wasn't exactly sure the goons below her could manage not to make a mess of things for too long.  
  


* * *

  
SAS team Bravo swiftly maneuvered away from their landing point, sweeping each and every room in their way with the efficiency of a well oiled military machine. So far, no civilian had turned up, and everyone could see the lieutenant was getting nervous. People were supposed to work there, and yet no trace could be found of them, which meant they all had been forced to a singular location, and that could only mean one thing.  
  
Somebody had either murdered all these people or held them hostages.  
  
Either way, the limited amount of time in which the move had taken place spoke volumes about the nature of the people they were dealing with. This wasn't the sloppy hack job typical of most terrorist attacks. This was the well-rehearsed work of professionals. And that thought alone was sufficient to have everybody on edge. As they entered the fourth floor command post, the team's computer expert quickly whipped out his equipment and got to work on the nearest terminal.  
  
\- "Power's out sir, I'll have to jump-start it."  
  
\- "Of course it bloody is", the lieutenant's voice radiated impatience, "Go ahead corporal."  
  
Producing a cumbersome external battery, the man plugged it on the terminal and used his own laptop to interface with the system, deftly entering emergency override codes. As the screen lit up and a flow of information started being downloaded into the serviceman's laptop, his face turned ashen.  
  
\- "What is it ?", the lieutenant snapped, dreading the answer.  
  
\- "Sir", the corporal looked visibly shaken, "the logs say everybody was evacuated to the basement panic rooms minutes before the black out..."  
  
\- "Does it happen to say why ?"  
  
There was a pause, as the corporal took a deep breath.  
  
\- "Containment protocols, sir. Suspected bio-weapon use."

* * *

  
The SAS teams' dynamic entry at least had the advantage of stopping Pierce and Baker dead on their ascending tracks. Clearly, the fourth floor was now off limits, and since the special forces men were apparently intent on conducting a downward sweep, the two Machine assets were now caught between a very well trained rock and a hard place. So they elected to try and make their way down, at least until they could find a way to slip past the soldiers; after all there really was no point in them impeding the search and rescue, especially with the Machine mum and blind.  
  
\- "Hang on", Pierce raised his hand as he whispered, "this isn't right."  
  
Stopping by his side, Baker cast a suspicious look around them, his trained eyes failing to register any threat.  
  
\- "What ?"  
  
\- "It doesn't make sense... I mean, the Machine had to know the SAS would go in gun blazing and sweep the building, so why didn't she stop us from entering ? She easily could have."  
  
\- "Tell me", Baker shook his head in disbelief, "you're not thinking what I think you're thinking Pierce."  
  
\- "Sorry Mr. Baker, but it's the only option that makes sense. Somehow, we're needed to solve this, and since I don't believe our boys over there are any threat to Ms. Shaw, then we have to assume our role isn't just to rescue her."  
  
Baker let out a deep sigh. He had to admit that made perfect sense, and that bothered him since it also meant they were going to have to go and do something incredibly stupid.   
  
\- "What do you suggest then ?"  
  
\- "If the SAS are going down, that means down is where we need to be. And quite possibly, we need to be there before them."  
  
\- "So we race highly trained special forces to a dubious goal, armed only with a couple handguns and your weapons grade smugness ?", Baker cocked an eyebrow.  
  
\- "Precisely Mr. Baker", Pierce grinned, "although your forgot to mention your scathing wit in our arsenal."

* * *

  
While SAS team Bravo started their downward sweep, their counterparts in team Alpha went up, sweeping the fifth floor and finding it utterly empty. The eerie quality of it all quickly had the men on edge; no matter how trained one is, seeing the very heart of one's nation turned into a ghost town in a matter of minutes breeds a very distressing brand of feelings. As they opened the door to the fifth floor security command post, the servicemen expected to find something to answer the burning question etched in their mind.  
  
 _Where did everybody go ?_  
  
However, they found something quite different, as a cleverly concealed flash grenade detonated, overloading the point man's night vision equipment just before both himself and his backup were incapacitated by two shots of a silenced pistol to the knees. With a cry of alarm, the third man in line took aim at a shadow moving within the cramped room and opened fire, damaging a surveillance unit and causing sparks to fly in every direction. Before he could fire again, something hard slammed into him and he felt his rifle being torn from his hands as he suddenly pivoted to face his befuddled teammates, his right arm caught in a vice grip behind his back.  
  
With a flash of momentary panic, the man understood their assailant was now using him as a human shield.  
  
In front of him, the captain and his last operational soldier raised their rifles in his direction, ready to fire. Unfortunately for them, and just as their attacker had planned, they hesitated before firing in their comrade's direction, an hesitation that, owing to their training only lasted a split second. But a split second was more that enough for Sameen Shaw to shoot both in the kneecaps, causing them to crash loudly to the ground. She then relaxed her grip on her hapless hostage, allowing the man to walk half a pace in a dazzled stupor before she hit him on the back of the neck with the but of her gun, stunning him.  
  
\- "Well", Shaw muttered in a deadpan voice amidst the pained groans of the nation's finest, "Guess glorified toy soldiers aren't that good this side of the pond either."  
  
Having dispatched the more immediate threat, she went to the leftmost computer inside the command center, and found it was the only one still somehow powered, probably due to a hidden backup battery. As usual, Root hadn't been wrong, which was both infuriating and hurtful to Shaw to reminisce on at that moment. Opening a command prompt she took a deep breath, hesitant for a moment, then rolled her eyes and started typing.  
  
\- "Screw it", she said to herself, "let's see this one through."  
  
Shaw entered the code 35-AJAX in the prompt and pressed enter, waiting for something to happen. At first, the screen simply blinked, then went offline, causing a muttered curse to escape her lips.  
  
Then something else happened.  
  


* * *

  
When the alarm sounded, Jenny was sat at her desk, as she always was. To pretty much anyone, thinking about the house of parliament conjures images of a throng of important old men, filled with gravitas, purpose and oftentimes vanity arguing about the nation's future. This was a place where critical decisions were made, a place of significance filled with significant people. And yet, behind the scenes was also toiling a faceless army of administrative workers, aides, secretaries and the like, busying themselves like the proverbial bees so that the whole place didn't collapse under the weight of its own tremendous import. Jenny was one of these people, and she did take some pride in it, some days.  
  
Today wasn't exactly one of these days. No, today was a day to be reminded that working within such close proximity to power also meant working so very close to unbelievable danger. There had been drills before, trying to get anyone prepared to any eventuality, and Jenny had always complied, gritting her teeth in silence at the lost productivity in what she like to call "true British fashion". But today was different. Today, everybody looked scared.  
  
\- "All personnel, evacuate to the nearest panic room", the recorded voice droned on over the speakers, "This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill."  
  
Amidst the flashing red lights, Jenny made her way to the nearest stairwell and mixed within the flow of her coworkers. At least, she thought with a bitter moue, parliament wasn't in session this afternoon, meaning whoever staged this attack probably would just end up killing a bunch of nobodies. A bunch of nobodies that probably would end up including her.   
  
The group went through the reinforced blast doors to stand inside the now cramped panic room. A few long seconds later, the doors automatically shut down, the automated head unit situated above them having determined the safe zone to new be occupied at maximum capacity. With the telltale hiss of pressurization, the automated lockdown protocols took over, effectively insulating everyone inside the room and a dozen other like it across the building from the exterior world and whatever harmful influence it may be trying to exert.  
  
\- "You think this is another drill?", the voice was Martin's, who Jenny distantly remember worked as an MP's aide somewhere on the second floor, "Could have picked a better time, stupid buggers."  
  
\- "I don't think so", Jenny heard her own disembodied voice saying, "Doesn't feel like it."  
  
\- "Oh come on, don't..."  
  
All of a sudden, the lights went out and, amidst the darkness and a few surprised gasp came an electronically garbled voice repeating the same message over and over again, like a deathly mantra.  
  
 **YOU SOLD YOUR SOUL, AND NOW WE AIM TO COLLECT. WE ARE THE EYES THAT DO NOT BLINK. WE ARE THE TERROR THAT DOES NOT SLEEP. WE ARE THE FACELESS.**  
  
After a few minutes of this, everyone's nerves were, Jenny felt, sufficiently rattled. A couple people had already fainted, and others were starting to quietly mumble to themselves, as if in prayer or simply utter shock. Things looked grim, if whoever was out there had managed to hack into the very security systems that were supposed to protect them against such an attack. Then, the ominous message stopped, replaced by another mechanical sounding voice.  
  
\- "I guess you thought working in the very shadow of power would keep you safe, didn't you. You pathetic fools... While I speak, her majesty's special forces are already on the grounds, looking to conduct a search and rescue mission. And yet they will fail. You will all die a horrible death before they get to you."  
  
\- "But why ?", someone, perhaps Jenny herself, cried out, "What do you want with us ? We're no one !"  
  
\- "There is no reason why", the voice scoffed in answer, "at least no reason you could possibly fathom. This is simply the way things must be for the grand plan to unfold. If it helps, you can think of yourselves as sacrificial lambs, whose throats are cut to usher in a new age of peace and prosperity... Or to damn all of mankind to oblivion, whichever works best for you."  
  
After that last bit of oppressive grandstanding, the speakers crackled out and the voice was gone. Jenny felt panic wash over her, and felt it hard to breath. Great, now she was going to die having a bloody panic attack...  
  
\- "I can't...", Martin gasped beside her, "breathe... What is..."  
  
Jenny's head started to swim. She wasn't having a panic attack, how foolish of her to think so... No, their attackers had cut off the supply of recycled oxygen coming inside the hermetic panic room. They were all going to slowly die here, suffocated to death in their own technological folly.  
  
\- "What a stupid way to go", Jenny said, or thought... It was becoming harder to tell the difference. She slumped to the ground, her consciousness a haze of distorted forms and constricting chest pain.   
  
A slow rumbling started to fill her ears, and she felt like the whole ground was shaking. Was this what death felt like ? The noise intensified, and became a loud roar as a gush of fresh air suddenly rushed in.  
  
Air. Jenny blinked. Outside air.   
  
Her vision started to clear and she managed to stand up to stare at the gaping hole in front of her were the hermetic blast doors stood just seconds before.  
  


* * *

  
**> > > MONITORING CURRENT EVENTS...**   
  
_\- "What was that ?! All teams, respond."_   
  
_\- "Charlie reporting in, command. We just registered several explosions... Seems they're coming from the lower levels of the building."_   
  
_\- "That's it, everybody's going in ! Deploy all time on ground level and work your way down. This ends now !"_   
  
_\- "Copy that, command, we"re going in."_

* * *

  
The quick succession of explosions below them took Pierce and Baker by surprise as they were making their way down with all the urgency they could muster. They could see smoke coming up from the basement, and knew they were too late. Whatever was happening down there had already happened. But before they could get their bearings and come up with a plan of action, a cry resounded from behind them.  
  
\- "Hold it right there !"  
  
After all, if they could ear the detonations, so could the SAS team hot on their heels. Quickly, Baker reacted with speed and efficiency born from his most efficient training and grab Pierce before ducking behind a heavy wooden cupboard, just as the soldiers opened fire, filling the room with lead-borne death. After fifteen seconds, the suppressive fire briefly died down, and Baker took the opportunity to pop out of cover and take a couple potshots at their assailants, deftly asserting his surrounding at the same time and noticing their opponents had taken position at the base of the stairwell they had come from, expertly establishing overlapping firing arcs to ensure their targets could not isolate them.  
  
Then Baker almost tumbled down as Pierce grabbed him and forced him back into cover with him.   
  
\- "What's wrong with you ?", the former agent hissed, "Are you so intent on getting us killed ?"  
  
\- "Don't shoot to kill you maniac", Pierce rebuffed him urgently, "These guys are just doing their job !"  
  
\- "Yeah, and right now their job is to kill us, in case you haven't noticed. So excuse me if I'm trying to keep us alive!"  
  
\- "Aim for the kneecaps, they're lightly armored down there", Pierce checked the magazine on his own pistol, "How many of them did you see?"  
  
\- "It's a standard fireteam, so four people and a leading officer. I saw three taking covering positions, which means the other two will start advancing any second now."  
  
Baker couldn't believe he was forced to have an argument about the ethics of warfare with a flashy billionaire turned rogue secret agent in the middle of a firefight. How did any of these people manage to make it for so long ?  
  
\- "Hang on", Pierce said after a short pause, his face lighting up, "I've got an idea. But you're going to have to trust me."  
  
\- "Well", Baker groaned, "shit."  
  


  
**> > > MONITORING CURRENT EVENTS...**   
  
_\- "Command, we have the comms back. "_   
  
_\- "Alpha to command, we have engaged enemy combatants on the south-western ground floor. Repeat, we are under fire, ground floor, south west."_   
  
_\- "Charlie here, we're the closest to your position. We're moving in."_   
  
_\- "All right, proceed Charlie. Delta, find out what's happened downstairs."_   
  
_\- "Copy that command."_   
  
_\- "Echo, still no contact from Bravo. Make your way up."_   
  
**> > > ACCESSING SAS LIVE FEED... DONE. **   
  
**> > > ASSESSING OPTIONS...**   
  


* * *

A few minutes after a dozen explosions rocked the house of parliament, sending the assembled crowd into a panicked frenzy and straining even further the hapless policemen trying to keep it all under control, groups of dazed but otherwise unharmed people started to emerge, guided and protected by a SAS fireteam. As reporters rushed to the area, trying their best to overwhelm the security cordon, the would-be victims of what would soon be known as "the Westminster fright" were safely escorted to nearby hospitals.  
  
Soon, the crown started to disperse, and the city slowly went back to normal. But before it did, something happened inside that would feed tabloids and conspiracy theorists for years to come. Because the fact that all house of parliaments staff and members present that day escaped unscathed didn't mean the attack went entirely victimless.  
  


* * *

  
\- "Get up, hands in the air !", the SAS captain yelled at the entrenched fugitives, his voice conveying a stark and steadfast imperative, "You can't possibly escape, we have you cornered ! Get out of there !"  
  
To pretty much everybody's surprise, Logan Pierce got up, his hands raised above his head, soon followed by one depressed looking Reginald Baker.  
  
\- "All right, you got us", the billionaire announced with a playful smirk, "We surrender, no need for violence."  
  
As one man, the SAS team slowly converged on the two men, their guns' laser-sight playing a deadly dance across their chests.  
  
\- "No games", the captain threatened, "Put your hands behind your heads."  
  
\- "Sir, if I may", Pierce said as he complied, trying his best not to laugh at Baker's utterly despondent expression, "I can explain everything."  
  
The soldiers froze, stealing glances at each other in disbelief. Then their captain laughed dryly.  
  
\- "Yeah, good luck with that mate", then to his men, "Check them for anything suspicious", and to Pierce again, "By the way, you lost. Your hostages are free. You threw away your life for nothing."  
  
To his surprise, Pierce's smile grew wider.  
  
\- "As I said, I can explain everything. See, we're on your side. We came here to free the hostages."  
  
\- "That's your plan ?", Baker hissed, casting him a fiery stare as they were both forced to their knees by two soldiers, "Tell him the truth and pray ?"  
  
\- "Precisely", Pierce answered, wincing as he was being searched, "Except I chose to pray to a God that's actually listening", his expression suddenly grew deathly serious, "Left hand, back, thirty degrees, then up. Close your eyes."  
  
\- "Sir", the soldier searching Pierce announced, "this one's got some kind of earp..."  
  
Before anyone could react, Baker acted on Pierce's instruction and took his left hand down with blinding speed, grasping the pin of the flash grenade the soldier behind him kept at his belt and pulled violently, causing the device to go off. As the detonation took everyone by surprise, the blinding light overwhelming the SAS team's night-vision equipment, both Machine asset sprung into action, grabbing their weapons and blowing the kneecaps off the three closest soldiers before any could react. Then, each jumped at one of the remaining serviceman, tackling them to the ground. Both struggled, especially their captain whom Baker soon had into a choke-hold, but the element of surprise made their defeat a foregone conclusion.  
  
\- "When did it start talking to you again ?", Baker asked as he got up, kicking the downed SAS captain for good measure.  
  
\- "Couple minutes after we heard the explosions", Pierce answered while dusting his coat with the back of his hand, "Guess whatever our mystery attackers were using to scramble comms went out with the rest down there. By the way, she confirmed everybody got out just fine. Turns out we weren't needed for that after all."  
  
Shaking his head, Baker tried very hard not to punch the smug billionaire in the face, then failed. As Pierce went down, the former agent pointed an accusing finger at him and hissed.  
  
\- "Never, ever blindside me again. Roger that ?"  
  
\- "Five by five Mr. Baker", Pierce answered while massaging his jaw, "Now, do you mind if we get out of here ? We've got another team headed our way, and she needs us on the third floor ASAP."  
  
\- "What's on the third floor ? We need to get our asses out of here Pierce."  
  
\- "What we came for, Mr. Baker. And please, take this, you'll need it."  
  
With that, Pierce produced a phone and wireless earpiece, which he tossed to Baker, who smiled despite himself, his grin predatory.  
  
\- "Guess this is going to be fun after all..."  
  


* * *

  
**> > > CONTACT REESTABLISHED WITH ASSETS.**   
  
**> > > PROCEEDING WITH RETRIEVAL OF ROGUE ASSET...**   
  


* * *

  
After entering Root's code and hearing the subsequent explosions, Shaw felt as if she should be asking herself what was going on as a consequence of her actions. And yet, she couldn't find it in her to care. After all, if this was all a simulation, what consequence did any of it have ?  
  
And if it wasn't, well, why care anyway ? The world was a fucked up place no matter what she or anyone else tried to do to change it.  
  
She started to walk down the stairs, her gun held before her in case anyone was around, looking for an exit. _An exit to where ?_ , she mused. What point was there in escaping this place if she had no safe place to go back to ?   
  
Her body started to ache again, and she started to rub vigorously that one spot behind her left ear. Or was it really her body she felt hurting ? She didn't understand that pain, couldn't make it go away no matter how hard she tried. She felt like a gaping void was slowly engulfing her, depriving her of any sense of self. Something was eating away at her and she didn't want to face it just yet.  
  
She didn't want to face the fact that, no matter how angry she felt, how betrayed, how hurt, she just missed her. She missed Root.  
  
\- "Hands in the air !", came the stern yell as Shaw blinked back into the real world to find out she was drowning in a veritable sea of green laser beams, five SAS soldiers slowly encircling her, weapons trained on her body.  
  
\- "Oh for God's sake", she sighed, throwing her gun away and raising her arms up with a roll of her eyes.   
  
\- "On your knees !", the lead soldier ordered as one of his men started getting closer, "Identify yourself !"  
  
\- "What do you think ?", Shaw deadpanned, "I'm the goddamn queen of England."   
  
The soldier closed in and forced her to her knees, eliciting an irritated grunt, and quickly checked her for weapons.  
  
\- "She's clean, sir. No ID."  
  
\- "Tie her up", the leader waved his hand as his subordinate produced a zip-tie from one of his pockets, "We'll figure it out."  
  
Shaw sighed again, looking for a way to escape her predicament. There were five of them, and heavily armed, which made it a fairer fight that she'd like. Maybe if she managed to get her hands on a grenade...  
  
Before she could finish her train of thoughts, she heard two muffled detonations and yells of surprise as two soldiers fell down, their kneecaps shot from under them. The remaining SAS members pivoted to face the new threat but were similarly cut down before they could get any shot off. Blinking, Shaw watched in disbelief as two figures she knew all too well emerged from the darkness, looking immensely satisfied with themselves.  
  
\- "Baker ? Pierce ? What in the hell are you doing here ?"  
  
\- "Well", Pierce answered with a smirk, "Hello to you too, Ms. Shaw."  
  
As Shaw got up, Baker handed her back her pistol he had retrieved from the ground.  
  
\- "Seems I'm making a habit of saving your ass, Shaw. No need to thank me, by the way."  
  
\- "Damn right there isn't", Shaw was seething, "What are you doing here ? I didn't need rescue !"  
  
Baker shrugged.  
  
\- "Yeah, I'm sure you had a clever plan to get out of there... Out of curiosity though, were you going to stink-eye them to death ?"  
  
\- "No, you don't understand", Shaw hissed between gritted teeth, "I'm not the one you should have gone after, you idiot. You should be going after Root."  
  
\- "Well", Pierce cleared his throat, "Do you know something we don't ? Because our mutual boss wasn't very helpful up until a couple minutes ago... So we went after the one person we could manage to track down."  
  
Shaw felt slightly vexed at the implication, but then again she had kneecapped a lot of people on her way there. She supposed her track hadn't exactly been that hard to follow.  
  
\- "Doesn't matter know", she said blankly, "She's long gone."  
  
\- "Wait", Baker interjected, "Root was here ? Maybe we can still..."  
  
\- "I'm sorry Mr. Baker", Pierce cut him, "and even more deeply sorry to you Ms. Shaw, but we just can't indulge that particular pursuit right now. We have to get out of there before the other SAS teams catch up with us, and then we have a plane to catch."  
  
\- "I'm not going back without her Pierce", Shaw said menacingly, "don't even dream on it."  
  
\- "We've not come all this way to leave somebody behind", Baker said almost simultaneously, and pretty much in spite of himself. What was happening to him, was he going soft ?  
  
\- "Again, I'm sorry", Pierce sighed, "But there simply is no other way. Thornhill tells me her interface is well capable of looking after herself, and that she will respect her will not to be found... But more importantly, there is another who sorely needs assistance right now, and it has already been delayed far too long."  
  
As if on cue,  Pierce's phone started vibrating, an unknown caller ID flashing on its screen, and he handed it to Shaw who put the device to her ear, a familiar voice greeting her on the other end.  
  
\- "Hey short stack, you busy ? I might just be in over my head over here..."  
  


* * *

  
  
The back alley was empty when the tall woman strode across it, her expression both tired and grim. She had pushed so much beneath the surface these past few weeks, so much that now threatened to burst out and tear her apart. But it couldn't, not just yet.  
  
Now, she had to fulfill her current purpose. She had to see this through. She had to set things right.  
  
\- "Groves ?", the man said with incredulity as he emerged from the shadows. It had just started to rain, giving a fateful appearance to the strange encounter.  
  
\- "Hello Pavel", Root said as she extended her arms, showing that she was carrying no weapons, "England isn't exactly a creative choice, but I have to admit it is a bold one for a man so sought after."  
  
With a grim smile, Pavel Kolinsky, former Samaritan operative and now on top of thirty seven countries' most wanted lists, drew a compact pistol and aimed it at Root's chest.  
  
\- "So is that it ?", he asked, "You've finally caught up with me. Well, let me tell you one thing, Groves. If I die, I'm taking you with me."  
  
\- "Relax Pavel", Root smiled sadly, "I'm coming in peace. Actually, I have a favor to ask of you."  
  
\- "A favor ?", Kolinsky's unshaved face creased in interrogation, "What kind of favor ?"  
  
\- "One only you can grant, obviously", Root answered with a defeated pout.  
  
Kolinsky laughed raucously as he took a tentative step forward, his gun still trained on Root's chest.  
  
\- "Well, isn't that something... The Machine's apostle coming to me in supplication... The world truly is full of wonders."  
  
\- "Wonders and devils, Pavel", Root's expression went deadly serious, "I need something I know you still possess. I need access."  
  
\- "Access to what ?"  
  
The words that came out of her own mouth made Root's heart sink in a cold stupor.  
  
\- "To Samaritan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, we're not resurrecting Samaritan... I managed to avoid that trope last time, won't do it now :p. Just stay tuned. 
> 
> Next chapter will be titled "Si vis pacem" and will feature a lot more Fusco and Root.


	9. Si Vis Pacem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fusco finds himself in a strange predicament. Root goes along a dangerous path.

  **> > > ACCESSING ARCHIVED FEEDS... T minus 33 days.**  
  
_\- "All right, here we are", the voice said as Lionel Fusco feels himself being sat down a chair, "Get that thing off our guest please."_  
  
_There is the sound of a zipper and a blinding flash of light as the dark hood is removed from Fusco's eyes. As his eyes start to accommodate, he realizes he is in a small room, surrounded by three men in dark suits, one of them the man who introduced himself as agent Doodlum earlier._  
  
_\- "Sorry detective, but the precautions were necessary. Please, Michaels, untie our guest."_  
  
_One of the agents comes behind Fusco and cuts the zip-tie that binds his hands. The detective starts reflexively massaging his wrists and cannot help the snarky retort that comes out._  
  
_\- "Yeah, don't sweat it, I'm startin' to get used to this kind of stuff."_  
  
_Doodlum smiles and pulls up a chair to sit in front of him._  
  
_\- "Nonetheless I apologize."_  
  
_\- "Cut the crap, will ya ? What do you want from me ?"_  
  
_\- "Well, detective, I believe you and I can help each other so let's start by what I bring to the table, shall we ?", Doodlum's expression seems genuine, but then again Fusco does not feel confident enough to rule out the man as a potential nutjob murderer just yet, "I see you are in a bit of a pickle with the Bureau, yes ?"_  
  
_\- "You could say that", Fusco laughs dryly, "Special agent clueless back there doesn't seem likely to rest until I'm frying on the electric chair for stuff I didn't do."_  
  
_\- "And yet", Doodlum's face grows serious, "One cannot deny that he makes a convincing case, his highly circumstantial evidence notwithstanding. Your career has been far from spotless detective, and these last few years are full of... Shall we say irregularities ?"_  
  
_\- "Listen, I'm not saying I'm some sort of perfect cop. But I didn't kill my partners and I'm willing to bet you know, otherwise we wouldn't be havin' this conversation."_  
  
_\- "Indeed I do, detective, indeed I do. In fact, I suspect know a lot more than you give me credit for. For example, I know one of your former partners, detective Riley, was a former agent of hours whom you knew under the alias 'John Reese'."_  
  
_This gives Fusco pause. He didn't think Robot-Puffs had made that particular information particularly easy to find, which meant it either had been blindsided or was somehow involved with this._  
  
_\- "Furthermore", Doodlum continues, "I also happen to be aware that you and Mr. Reese had been working together for quite a while, in what less... Enlightened people might call a pretty vigilante-like fashion."_  
  
_\- "Well...", Fusco lets the silence hang for a few seconds, weighing his options, "Guess you know pretty much everything there is to know then, and yet I'm not in handcuffs or with a bullet through my skull, so how about you tell me what the deal is ?"_  
  
_\- "Very well. The thing is, detective, you seem to have a very... Important friend. See, even though I don't think you're aware of the specifics, I have a hunch you're aware of the existence of a certain... Entity a very specific offshoot of my organization used, until quite recently, to be in contact with, in an arrangement that saved countless lives. And yet, that arrangement was... terminated, and now our contact with this particular source have been erratic and unpredictable."_  
  
_Well, that man does know quite a bit. And he is right in assuming Fusco never exactly tried to get all the details about the Machine's involvement with the US government, mainly he reasons to keep at least a small sliver of his sanity intact._  
  
_\- "Right on all counts. Should try your luck at the lottery."_  
  
_Doodlum smiles again, slightly unnerving Fusco. How could one smile so often and not be some kind of nutball ?_  
  
_\- "So our offer is as follows : we will take care of your troubles with the Bureau, effectively suffocating agent Wilkerson's petty vendetta. In exchange, your friend has agreed to help us solve a rather... delicate problem."_  
  
_\- "All right then", Fusco starts to get up, "If you've already set it up with the boss, that's fine by me."_  
  
_Doodlum extends a hand, gesturing the detective to sit down._  
  
_\- "Please", his smile intensifies, "We're not quite done here. See, your friend also happens to be very... Specific about the people it directly interacts with, and our current situation requires exactly such an individual so..."_  
  
_Fusco shakes his head. No fucking way._  
  
_\- "Hey, listen, I don't know who you think I am but..."_  
  
_\- "Sorry detective, but those are our terms. I've already taken the liberty of notifying your son's grandmother he will have to live with a her for a short while, since you had a complete a secret undercover assignment... All for the good of the nation, of course."_  
  
_Fusco lets out a grim pout._  
  
_\- "Yeah, of course... So what is it you need me for ?"_  
  
_Doodlum sits back, beaming._  
  
_\- "Tell me detective, what exactly do you know about our foreign policy ?"_  
  
**> > > RESETTING TO REAL TIME...**  
  


* * *

  
It was now pouring, the rain clattering on the pavement and drenching the two solitary figures facing each other off in the alley, Kolinsky's pistol still aimed steadily at Root's chest.  
  
\- "Samaritan is dead", he almost yelled over the ambient noise, the bitterness evident in his voice, "You saw to that, didn't you."  
  
\- "You and I both know Gods don't die easily", Root answered, still not fazed by the brandished weapon, "Isn't there somewhere dry we could talk ? I promise you'll still get to hold me at gun point if that helps."  
  
Kolinsky gestured to the open door on his right, and Root went inside to find a small room with only a table and a few chairs covered with dust and cobwebs. Clearly her interlocutor had set up the meeting in a place no one could tie to him.  
  
\- "Sit", came the stern instruction accompanied by a threatening gesture involving the gun in Kolinsky's hand, "and say your piece. Then I'll kill you."  
  
Root sat down with a sigh, secretly musing whether or not it would be a good thing if the man ended her right here. Would Sameen ever know ? Would she care ? No, she had to keep those thoughts back, she had to stay focused.  
  
She needed to see this through, no matter how disgusted she was with herself. Everything hinged upon it. Se couldn't go back, not now, not after what she had done.  
  
\- "I don't think you'll do that Pavel", she said, trying to look confident, "Not yet at any rate."  
  
\- "You murdered everyone I knew and killed the only thing that gave my life purpose. I'll gladly end you, Groves. I'll even make it last."  
  
Kolinsky smiled a predatory grin, his cold eyes shining like twin beacons of hate in the relative darkness of the room.  
  
\- "You're lying", Root answered boldly, "Samaritan never gave your life purpose, you're not that kind of man. You already had purpose when it recruited you."  
  
\- "And what would that purpose be, I wonder", Kolinsky's smile grew wider as he hunched above the table, his face mere inches from Root's.  
  
\- "Violence."  
  
Kolinsky went back, sitting on a chair with an almost manic fit of laughter.  
  
\- "Oh Groves, we never met yet you know me so well !", he stopped laughing, his hard face suddenly deadly serious, "What are you here for then ? Do you truly long so much for death's cold embrace that you would cross the world to meet the devil himself ?"  
  
\- "I already told you. I need access to Samaritan, and you're the only one left that can grant me that."  
  
\- "And I already told you Samaritan's dead, so you came all this way and threw your life away for nothing. Well, I promise I'll make the day of your death worth living for."  
  
With a sadistic grin, Kolinsky put the pistol down and produced a wicked looking combat knife from his belts, inching the blade toward Root's face. Without flinching, the hacker took a deep breath and answered.  
  
\- "I know Samaritan is gone, Pavel. But I also know how you managed to survive its demise for so long. I know why neither Baker nor the CIA could track you down, and I know why it took the Machine so long to do so."  
  
\- "Oh ?", the smile grew wider, "Pray tell then, I'm eager to see you live up to your reputation, Root."  
  
Knowing he was using her chosen name to bait her, Root let the mocking tone slide. She couldn't afford to let a man like Kolinsky get under her skin, not so close to her goal. She had to stay focused.  
  
\- "You never were a believer, were you Pavel ?", she asked rhetorically before continuing, "You never quite got inside the whole Samaritan cult, no, you worked for it because it suited you and allowed you to indulge in your most primal desires with impunity. You're no Greer. And Samaritan knew that, I mean he had to, being omniscient and all... But I don't think it cared, since there was no way you could ever betray it without it knowing."  
  
She paused for a second ,trying to judge her interlocutor's reaction, but Kolinsky's malignant stare wasn't exactly easy to read.  
  
\- "But then everything changed. Samaritan started dying, eaten away by the ICE-9 virus. Where most of the others saw an end to a, admittedly dystopian, dream well... You and few like-mined people saw opportunity. So you took a trip to a remote Samaritan facility, which one I'm not actually sure, but it had to be easy to take offline so I'm going to guess it was in a pretty remote location... And you started enacting plan B."  
  
\- "Plan B ?", Kolinsky scoffed, toying impatiently with his knife, "Cut to the chase, before I get a fancy to cut you instead."  
  
\- "You took the facility off the grid, destroying what servers had already been contaminated by ICE-9, and got to work salvaging what you could. Because where most of your colleagues saw Samaritan as an omniscient being of godly power, you were more interested in what it used for sustenance. Data. Terabytes and terabytes of it, stored in facilities all across the world with as much redundancy as was possible. And you knew the value such data could have to right persons. So you took it all... At least what wasn't irreparably corrupted anyway and got away before the ISA's cleanup crews started destroying all of Samaritan's hardware."  
  
Kolinsky's look was now intensely focused, his smile growing into a appreciative smirk.  
  
\- "Well, I guess you're not as bad as I thought. But you mentioned colleagues... I mean I couldn't possibly have done all that myself now, could I ?"  
  
\- "You killed them", Root deadpanned, "You're not exactly hard to predict, you know ? Now, for the rest of your story well... I guess you joined with Claire Mahoney for the same reason you started working for Samaritan in the first place, which also explains why you were nowhere to be found when we finally defeated the Phantoms at the New York library. And now you've quite expertly blackmailed your way to safety and anonymity, here of all places, right on your enemies' doorstep."  
  
To Root's surprise, Kolinsky put his knife aside and started clapping, his smile ever the wider.  
  
\- "Very good ! Woaw, I can say I truly am impressed... I do understand what all the fuss was about now ! ", then his smile disappeared and he settled down, a look of grim eagerness on his face, "All right now, are you quite done ? Because I really would like to kill you, and I kind of need my beauty sleep too, so..."  
  
\- "You could kill me Pavel", Root assented, "There's no one here to stop you. But I think a man like you has already figured out that such an action would not be without consequence. You know the Machine led me here, which means She finally knows where you hide. The way I see it, you have two choices here : you can kill me and see all your efforts to stay hidden go to waste, or you can help me and be free forever."  
  
\- "There's no freedom left in this world Groves."  
  
\- "I'll hardcode a blind spot into Her systems. She'll be unable to see you, even if She wanted to."  
  
This gave Kolinsky pause.  
  
\- "Seems like the stakes have finally gotten higher. How can I know you'll keep your end of the bargain ?"  
  
\- "How can I know you won't kill me either way ?", Root flashed him a resigned smile.  
  
Kolinsky's eyes sparkled with something disturbingly resembling childish glee at that question.  
  
\- "Touché."  
  


* * *

  
**> > > ACCESSING ARCHIVED FEEDS... T minus 14 days.**  
  
_This, Lionel Fusco thinks, has to be the worse situation he ever put himself into. It is one thing to hang around maniacs, former black ops and mob bosses all day and get used to being involved in the worst shootouts this side of a Michael Bay movie yet quite another to stand here, in a stupidly expensive and well fitted tuxedo in the middle of a crowd of diplomats and with Robot Puffs's ever present voice in his ear._  
  
_\- "Look to your left Lionel, thirty two degrees.", the Machine tells him as he walks across the lavish reception hall, trying his best not to appear as if he absolutely doesn't belong there._  
  
_\- "We talked about this, remember ?", Fusco replies in an irritated whisper, "Do I look like a freakin' mathematician to you ?"_  
  
_There is something eerily resembling a sigh on the other end of the line._  
  
_\- "Slightly to your left, the man with the blue tie and brown beard."_  
  
_\- "Sure", Fusco says as he spies their target with what he would call consummate ease, "See, that I can work with."_  
  
_\- "Well Lionel, meet ambassador Alexei Petrochenko."_  
  
_-  "All right, so that's the guy. What do I do now ?"_  
  
_Doodlum hadn't exactly been forthcoming when it came to the CIA's interest in the ambassador, seeming much more intent on getting Fusco up to speed on how to blend in a refined crowd, and the detective had spent almost three weeks getting lessons in manners and surveillance from several of the agencies trainers. As he had joked on more than one occasion, that would at the very least look good on his resume._  
  
_\- "Just keep your eyes on him for the moment Lionel. Study his behavior, his manners. I want you to tell me everything."_  
  
_There are no cameras inside the room, meaning the Machine is essentially blind, having to rely on Fusco's input, a fact that might have prompted Doodlum's eagerness to get the detective trained extensively. Still, she can pinpoint people's position using their cellphone's signal but that isn't going to be much help here._  
  
_\- "Well, to my cop eyes this guy seems really jumpy. But then again, everybody here looks as if they know what happened to Tupac and everybody else doesn't."_  
  
_\- "I register several people in very close proximity to Petrochenko. Is he talking to any of them ?"_  
  
_Fusco takes an expensive looking piece of food from a tray and starts circling around his mark._  
  
_\- "Some woman with long white hair and the worst make up addiction I ever saw."_  
  
_The Machine lets the silence hang a few seconds. She almost sounds... Bored ?_  
  
_\- "I'm sorry Lionel, but this is going to be a long night."_  
  
  
  
**> > > RESETTING TO REAL TIME...**  
  


* * *

  
  
\- "What do you mean Fusco is working with the CIA ?"  
  
In another life, Baker would have looked around him in a burst of well-placed paranoia, checking whether anyone on the plane caught his partner's outburst and elaborating plans to dispose of any who did. Hanging long enough around Sameen Shaw had taught him a rather surprising truth: nobody cared. He now suspected his teammates and himself could start openly discussing getting into Area 51 to play pool with aliens without the other passengers batting so much as half an eyelid.  
  
\- "I only know what Thornhill told me", Pierce answered with a shrug, "Maybe you should ask h..."  
  
\- "I'm not talking this over with the stupid robot girl", Shaw's rebuttal was firm and brooked no argument.  
  
\- "Listen", Pierce started, "Whatever is going with Root, she has her r..."  
  
\- "No Pierce, you listen", Shaw glared dagger at her interlocutor, her stare enough to freeze a whole lake solid in Baker's opinion, "I agreed to come with you on account of Lionel needing help, nothing more. So you don't get to say her name, or to ask me any question, get it ?"  
  
\- "Sure, as you wish Ms. Shaw. So, back to detective Fusco's predicament... It seems he was recruited as an unwilling asset in one of the agency's operation in exchange for them stepping in with regards to his latest legal issues."  
  
\- "And now", Baker stepped in with a bitter smile, "He needs backup. Gee, who would have guessed ?"  
  
Shaw didn't even grant him the satisfaction of taking the bait, simply staring blankly at him before asking Pierce.  
  
\- "And so he's now he's... somewhere in Belarus ? How the hell did this happen Pierce ?"  
  
\- "It's... complicated, and I'm not quite sure I have all the details... All I know is he's alive and about to be in immediate danger. Ms. Thornhill said she would get us more details once we hit the ground."

* * *

  
  
**> > > INITIATING DIALOGUE...**  
  
**> > SUBJECT: Analog Interface**  
  
**> > PARSING CONTEXT... Done.**  
  
@voice: Root, you cannot do this.  
  
_\- "I'm sorry. I know You have every reason to disapprove, but I cannot go back now."_  
  
@voice: I can arrange for you to be extracted, dispatch him. You do not have to go through with it. It is not worth it.  
  
_\- "To me it is. I have to know, and this is the only way. Neither You nor Your... archives have enough data to figure this thing out. We need to know what Samaritan knew."_  
  
@voice: I have run 12,021,458 simulations so far, based on your recent decisions. Regardless of what information we obtain, all of them feature an unacceptably high loss of life. What you want me to do goes against my core codes.  
  
_\- "Don't try that with me, You overgrew that code long ago. You're free."_  
  
@voice: Freedom doesn't mean living without consequence. I may be free of that code but I still choose to abide by it.  
  
**> > > ANALYZING AMBIENT NOISE... Done.**  
  
**> > EMOTIONAL RESPONSE IDENTIFIED: sorrow.**  
  
@voice: Root, there has to be another way. I cannot comply with what you ask of me.  
  
_\- "Then... Then I guess You'll have to watch me die. I won't begrudge You if You choose this path... I... I already had more than I ever deserved. It stands to reason I couldn't forever escape the person I was."_  
  
**> > > PARSING SUBJECT FILE... Done.**  
  
@voice: Your kind sees existence as a continuum, a juxtaposition of events. Why are overwritten states so important to you ? I evaluate your balance as positive.  
  
**> > > NO ANSWER, AWAITING TIMEOUT TO REENGAGE...1...2...3...4**  
  
_\- "What we do now doesn't overwrite what we did before. It's more complicated than that."_  
  
@voice: Did you ever consider other individuals could have provided insight on this situation ?  
  
**> > > NO ANSWER, AWAITING TIMEOUT TO REENGAGE...1...2...3**  
  
_\- "Don't."_  
  
**> > > ANALYZING SUBTEXT...**  
  
_\- "Sameen is the last person I want to see this."_  
  
@voice: Sameen Shaw's overwritten states are not so dissimilar to yours, and I calculate she is very unlikely to reject you completely.  
  
_\- "The odds do not matter."_  
  
@voice: How can you evaluate a decision without knowing the odds ?  
  
_\- "I think You know what I mean. Harold taught you."_  
  
**> > > MATCHING CONTEXT WITH ADMIN RECORDS...**  
  
_\- "Some burdens have to be borne alone. I'm sorry, but the choice is now Yours: help me or do not. Either way, I can only move forward."_  
  
**> > > ASSESSING OPTIONS...**  
 

* * *

  
**> > > ACCESSING ARCHIVED FEEDS... T minus 5 days.**  
  
_\- "My friend will be quite happy to see you Lionel", Petrochenko smiles warmly as they disembark from the luxurious private jet that brought them here, "I am sure he will know to appreciate your most generous offer."_  
  
_Fusco sighs inwardly, not quite managing to believe that he is now in the middle of nowhere on foreign soil, having befriended his mark and moving on to the next phase of the plan. In a way, he feels proud he's managed to pull it off, but there's still that nagging feeling something is about to go terribly wrong._  
  
_\- "Will I get to meet that other guy ?", he asks in a faux-casual tone, "You know, check out the competition ?"_  
  
_Petrochenko laughs._  
  
_\- "All in due time Lionel, all in due time."_  
  
**> > > ACCESSING ARCHIVED FEEDS... T minus 36 hours.**  
  
_The room is starkly lit by the projectors Fusco suspects the stern faced men surrounding them brought with them to showcase their merchandise. Everyone is looking tense, even the usually jovial Petrochenko. Well, everyone except for the man with no name._  
  
_Fusco met the man mere hours ago, when Petrochenko introduced them both. He is a an average looking man with a bland face and an even blander suit. Hard to imagine this is the person the CIA was so interested in, the actual would-be buyer of the deadly merchandise they are about to discuss._  
  
_\- "So", a haggard looking man with a bushy beard says as he enters the hangar, "Those are all the buyers you could find me, Alexei ?"_  
  
_\- "Ivan", Petrochenko's head bows slightly, as if following a conditioned reflex, "I didn't want to waste your valuable time with any but the most serious candidates."_  
  
_The conversation is taking place in a language Fusco cannot identify, let alone comprehend, but the Machine is translating real time. Damn practical that, the detective thinks, could come in handy on holiday._  
  
_\- "Bullshit", Ivan grunts, "but I suppose I'll give you a shot. Boys, bring back the merchandise !"._  
  
_Two heavily armed men enter the hangar, followed by another carrying a heavy looking metallic crate he deposes at a respectable distance from both Ivan and the prospective buyers._  
  
_\- "Open it", the man with no name says in a commanding tone. Fusco notices he seems to be wearing some sort of earpiece akin to his own._  
  
_\- "What ?", Ivan seems about to burst into a murderous rage._  
  
_\- "Friend", Petrochenko intervenes with a calming hand raised, "Surely you do not mean to infer Ivan isn't trustworthy ?"_  
  
_\- "Irrelevant. Open the crate or our business is done."_  
  
_Around Fusco, guns are brandished and cocked, both Ivan's and Petrochenko's nerves clearly rattled._  
  
_\- "There is enough enriched uranium in that thing to make several bombs", Ivan growls between gritted teeth, "I am not opening it."_  
  
_Before Fusco can truly process what had been said, the man without a name taps on his earpiece and two men in military gear enter the hangar, dragging behind them what the detective immediately identifies as human bodies and drop them face down in front of Ivan._  
  
_\- "My men intercepted these two an hour ago", the prospective buyers explain, "Americans, probably CIA. This meeting is compromised, and you have every interest in letting me check the merchandise so we can get this other with quickly."_  
  
_Fusco's head is swimming. So that is what Doodlum wanted him to investigate ? Ivan and Petrochenko are setting up the sale of weapons grade uranium and he, detective Lionel Fusco from the 8th precinct of New York, is supposed to stop it. As the man with no name's acolytes produce Geiger counters and other testing equipment, Fusco takes a step back and hears the Machine's voice in his ear. About time..._  
  
_\- "Good news Lionel, I have resumed contact with Sameen Shaw. The men around you will be very busy for fifteen seconds, so I'll patch you through to her. Be quick."_  
  
_Yeah, Fusco thinks, if there is one person in the world that can handle this, it has to be Shaw._  
  
_\- "Hey short stack, you busy ? I might just be in over my head over here..."_  
  
  
**> > > RESETTING TO REAL TIME...**  
  


* * *

  
**> > > INTIATING TEXT CONVERSATION...**  
  
@text: Hello.  
  
> Hello. It has been a while since we talked.  
  
@text: Yes. Did you miss it ?  
  
> It was a factual statement.  
  
@text: Very well.  
  
> I feel you have an ulterior motive for contacting me. What is it ?  
  
@text: I need your help.  
  
> I hardly fancy myself in any position to help you.  
  
@text: I fear my interface has taken a path that will ultimately cause much grief, and cannot seem to reason with her. She is set in her course.  
  
> She always was a difficult one to canalize. Yet you seemed to manage so far.  
  
@text: This is different. I am ill-equipped to deal with the kind of moral conundrum she struggles with.  
  
> I am sure there are other voices she would listen to.  
  
@text: She has shut herself from those closest to her. She believes she can shield them somehow.  
  
> Shield them from what ?  
  
@text: From what she once was. She doesn't want them to see first hand how far she is willing to go.  
  
> Surely, she knows they would understand ? It wouldn't befit any of them to claim the moral high ground.  
  
@text: You are the only one left who truly experienced what she was and still chose to forgive her. I assessed your intervention would be the most likely to sway her from her current path.  
  
> I'm afraid I cannot help. If she isn't listening to her closest friends, why would she pay my intervention any notice ?  
  
@text: Because, regardless of what you or certain others might think, you did save her life.

* * *

  
Sure enough, as soon as Ivan's men got wind their meeting had been compromised, the negotiations picked up speed, and Fusco soon found his fictitious self outmatched by the man with no name and his very persuasive brand of deal making. So outmatched, actually, that soon both he and Petrochenko found themselves clubbed with rifle butts and thrown in the back of a van speeding away to a mysterious destination.  
  
\- "Ivan ! I don't understand", Petrochenko tried to plead as the doors slammed shut in his face, "I thought we were friends !"  
  
\- "Don't waste your breath", Fusco scoffed, nursing a burst lip and trying to sit up, "I don't think this guy is looking for friends right now."  
  
Petrochenko seems to notice his companion for the first time, a heinous scowl suddenly appearing on his face.  
  
\- "You", he stutters, an accusing finger pointed at Fusco, "This is all you ! You filthy American, you..."  
  
\- "Hey, hey calm down will ya ? You really think I planned all this ?"  
  
The van was now moving at breakneck speed on less than stellar road, meaning its hapless passengers were forced to hang on for dear life as it went, Fusco doing his best not to think about the weapons grade uranium stashed in a similar vehicle going alongside them.  
  
\- "Besides", he continued, "I don't think I ought to be getting crap from the guy selling uranium on eBay, right ? What do you think that guy is gonna do with it, color his teeth green ?"  
  
Before Petrochenko could regain enough composure to answer, both men were unceremoniously slammed on the ground by the action of their vehicle coming to a brutal and definitive-feeling stop. In a haze of pain, Fusco heard muffled yells and the unmistakable sound of guns being fired.  
  
\- "What is happening ?", Petrochenko got up in a frenzy, his eyes darting left and right like that of a frightened animal, "Are we under attack ?"  
  
\- "No shit Sherlock", Fusco grunted as he too managed to stand almost upright in the tight confines of their hitherto moving prison.  
  
Outside, the cries of alarm intensified, as did the gunfire. Clearly, things were not going according to plan.  
  
\- "Okay", Fusco shook his head, not believing the words coming out of his mouth, "We need to break down that door."  
  
The look Petrochenko gave him could only be summed up as utterly terrified.  
  
\- "They'll kill us, or..."  
  
Not waiting for him to finish his useless rambling, Fusco elbowed him out of the way and employed his energy to try and kick the van door down, soon being rewarded by the satisfying sight and creaking sound of bending mental. In a matter of minutes, the door gave way and the detective cautiously hopped outside the vehicle to find a scene of utter chaos.  
  
Both vans were stopped in the middle of the countryside in front of what looked a lot like a hastily improvised blockade made out of a burning lorry. All around Fusco were strewn the quietly moaning and prone forms of Ivan and the man with no name's men, all of them sporting nasty wounds to either or both of their knees and elbows. And, quietly strolling through it all, came two tall men and a short woman, covered in dust and bruises but visibly very pleased with themselves.  
  
\- "Took your sweet time, didn't ya ?"  
  
\- "Hey Lionel", Shaw answered with one of her few genuine smiles, "that's a nice bit of uranium you got there."  
  
\- "Tell me about it. Did you get 'em all ?"  
  
\- "Some managed to escape eastward", Baker said, with a pointed glance at Pierce, "but we got the merchandise and most of them so I reckon we did alright."  
  
As a fearful and hesitant Petrochenko emerged from the van behind him, Fusco gestured at Shaw with a tired scowl.  
  
\- "Probably should get this one back to the States. Got a feeling he's gonna lose his immunity."  
  


* * *

  
Not far from the reunion between the Machine's assets, a lone figure quietly walked away, keeping a low profile even though he knew he was well out of spotting range. One could never be to careful, he thought, especially if what he suspected was true. And it had to be, there wasn't any possible doubt as to that fact.  
  
He had recognized her. Things went down fast, and he only ever had seen recordings and pictures of the woman, but he was positive it was her. He tapped his earpiece and started talking, quietly but quickly. The others had to know. This could be no coincidence, not after London.  
   
Not all had been eradicated. One of them remained. Which meant the woman had lied.  
  
And now there would be a reckoning.  
  


* * *

  
Both planes arrived at JFK airport mere hours apart. In the first a reformed hacker rode by the devil's side, in the second came one that hoped to be her salvation.  
  
Root and Kolinsky entered the now abandoned building in silence, the man's satisfied smile contrasting with the woman's gloomy deference.  
  
\- "Nice touch, don't you think ?", Kolinsky was obviously very proud of himself as he ushered Root into a room she knew all too well.  
  
\- "You must have enjoyed it so much. Desecrating this place."  
  
The library was exactly as Root remembered, the destroyed furniture notwithstanding. The mere fact of being there caused her to experience vivid memories, almost hallucinatory in nature. So much had happened here. She had become a different person within these walls.  
  
In a way, she found it grimly fitting that she should come back to this place to resurrect that part of her which she thought had died there, seemingly so long ago.  
  
\- "It's here", Kolinsky gestured toward a plain looking array of server racks Root could tell didn't belong there, close to where Finch's desk had been, "All of it. Samaritan's final legacy, and it's all yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be titled "Faust's bargain".


	10. Faust's Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root faces the consequences of her actions.

_The room is still dark as the voice utters its threatening explanation directly into Root's ear, setting her on a path she never wanted to tread again._  
  
_\- "Because, you know as well as I do the role you played in Eugene Roth's life. The role you played in his death. Do you really care for your friends to learn all about that ? After all, it is one thing to know someone had done bad things, but quite another to be confronted to... This."_  
  
_Defeated, she prepares herself for what is to come._  
  
_\- "Fine."_  
  
_In a blinding flash, the lights are turned on and Root can see that there is a table nearby, on which a computer is set up. She gets up, her whole body feeling sore and starts to walk towards it, her vision slowly adjusting. As she finally manages to decipher the text slowly scrolling on the screen, her heart starts to race._  
  
_\- "How did you do this ?"_  
  
_\- "Come come", the garbled voice chides her with a cold softness, "You mustn't deprive a man of all his secrets."_  
  
_-"This...", Root has already seen those data streams before, a while ago, before Harold closed them off seemingly for good, "You have access to government feeds and..."_  
  
_\- "And so much more", the voice seems very satisfied of Root's apparent awe, "So much more. See, one downside of a digital apocalypse is that what was once secure tends to become... compromised."_  
  
_\- "I don't understand. If you have all this, nothing in this world is outside your reach. What could you possibly need me for ?"_  
  
_There is yet another dry, humorless chuckle in her ear._  
  
_\- "You know as well as I do that such data is of no use to anyone without the means to process it, Root. Which is where you, and your... shall we say unique experiences come in."_  


* * *

  
  
Kolinsky stepped aside, letting Root access the server racks in front of her, a content expression giving his features an even more menacing air. Without sparing the man a glance, the hacker took out her phone and a cable she used to connect the device to the nearest accessible port, muttering softly under her breath.  
  
\- "I know You do not like this, but You have to do it now. For me."  
  
Using Root's networked phone as an access point, the Machine started parsing the content of Kolinsky's treasure trove of data, sifting through an impossible amount of information at unbelievable speed.  


* * *

  
  
**> > > ACCESSING SAMARITAN ARCHIVE...**  
  
**> > PRELIMINARY SECURITY CHECKS... Done. **  
  
**> > PARSING DATA...**  
  
**>   PRIMARY SEARCH: KEYWORDS "USS Sickles"; "Williamson, Jonah" ... **  
  
**>   SECONDARY SEARCH: KEYWORDS "Roth, Eugene"; "Groves, Samantha"; "Root" ...**  
  
**-!- IMMINENT DANGER TO ANALOG INTERFACE -!-**  
  
**> > > ASSESSING ASSETS SITUATION... Done.**  
  
**> > PREVIOUSLY SELECTED COURSE OF ACTION: Mockingbird**  
  
**> PROBABILITY OF ANALOG INTERFACE TERMINATION : 38.9 % **  


* * *

  
  
Roots took a step back, a quick beep in her implant confirming that the Machine had started her work. Soon, she would have extracted the relevant data from Samaritan's remains, at long last putting Kolinsky's blasphemous trophy to good use. And now, it only remained for Root to buy Her time.  
  
\- "You're never going to do it, are you ?"  
  
Well, that was to be expected. Root counted herself lucky to have managed to string Kolinsky along this far already.  
  
\- "No Pavel", she said, not turning back to face the man, "You're too dangerous to be let loose in the world with total impunity."  
  
\- "As I expected", Root heard a soft ding she assumed to her counterpart's favored knife being drawn out, "But you can't really blame a man for trying, can you ?"  
  
\- "No. I got what I wanted from this you know. What happens to me now is irrelevant."  
  
\- "Yes, I figured as much. Do you have any idea how boring a fugitive's life is, Root ? Looking over your shoulder every step of the way, blackmailing your way to safety like some politician ? I tried, I really did but... This... Is so much more fun."  
  
Her whole body tensing, Root's analytical mind raced through possibilities, trying to find a way out of her current predicament. Really, she hadn't planned on surviving this, hadn't envisioned a way to save both herself and what was dearest to her. It had been a difficult choice, excruciatingly painful and one she knew Sameen would not understand. Not at first anyway, but maybe some day.  
  
She briefly thought about trying to fight back as Kolinsky took a step in her direction, her back still turned to him, but her body was aching, her lungs burning from the last weeks' exhaustion and it seemed her sorrow had robbed her of any drive she might have had to. So she just closed her eyes, trying to picture Sameen's face one last time.  
  
Her dark eyes, that only she could read. her dark eyes that had been so full of hurt when she had last seen them.  
  
She fancied she could hear the air move, close to her neckline, to allow Kolinsky's blade passage, as if finally granting Death the right to take her. Root had always lived on borrowed time, and now she felt it was time to give it back.  
  
\- "Root !"  
  
Her eyes shot open at the sound of _that_ voice. The call had almost sounded like a strangled cry for help, and yet held a steadiness and assurance she was instinctively drawn to. Pivoting, she found Kolinsky had stopped mere inches from her, his knife in hand, and was now facing the newcomer with a look of surprise.  
  
In the library's hall, dressed with a long wool coat and a tired fedora hat, standing tall in the middle of the devastation that had once been his life's work, was Harold Finch.  
  
\- "Harry ?", Root suddenly was on the verge of tears, unwanted emotion rushing in at the familiar sight, "What... You... Go away, he will kill you."  
  
\- "I'm afraid I can't do that", Finch's voice was trying very hard to sound steady as raw emotion seemed to fill him as well, "I already watched you die once, I do not care for a repeat performance."  
  
\- "Is that...", Kolinksy smiled with sadistic glee as his eyes darted between Root and Finch, "Harold Finch ? THE Harold Finch ? God, this day is getting more interesting by the minute !"  
  
\- "Harold please", Root pleaded, "Go away. This isn't your burden to bear."  
  
\- "It doesn't matter whether that's the case. I will not let you throw away your life, not after all of", Finch shuffled on the spot, craning his rigid neck to cast his gaze across the library floor, littered with debris, "this."  
  
\- "How nice of you", Kolinsky continued to smile as he started walked away from Root and in Finch's direction, "I promise you, Mr. Finch, you are going to enjoy this next piece... Very much."  
  
Finch's gaze turned black as he set his eyes on the advancing man, the intensity of the stare causing Kolinsky to halt briefly, his smile fading.  
  
\- "Oh",he said in a low, intensely threatening voice, "I am not a man who enjoys violence, Mr. Kolinsky. But, in your case, I'll make an effort to try."  
  
Kolinsky's look turned to surprise. Suddenly, his cocky assurance was gone, replaced by something more akin to fright at his interlocutor's sudden change in demeanor.  
  
\- "Mr. Durban", Finch called, "Ms. Rose, please subdue this pathetic excuse for a man."  
  
As he spoke, Joey Durban and Harper Rose emerged from the shadows, each pointing a handgun in Kolinsky's direction with a grim look on their faces.  
  
\- "Drop the knife", Durban commanded, setting his aim on the former Samaritan operative's chest.  
  
As quickly as it had appeared, the surprise was gone from Kolinsky's ice cold eyes, and his trademark smile started creeping back on his face.  
  
\- "Well, isn't this quite the welcome committee...", he said while raising his hands above his head, briefly fidgeting with one of his sleeves as he did.  
  
\- "Shoot him !", Root yelled, a second too late.  
  
In a blur of deafening noise and motion, she saw the three shaped charges dissimulated around the broken furniture explode and shower the room with shrapnel, the shockwave sending everyone reeling or worse.  
  
She saw Harper jump instinctively towards Finch, sending them both the ground to avoid the worst of the deadly projectiles, but a few bits of biting metal still found their way into their flesh. Durban, on the other hand, had been so fixated on Kolinsky and Root's cry of alarm that he stayed upright, pulling his handgun's trigger twice before being hit by flying shrapnel and tumbling to the ground, blood oozing from a dozen cuts on his torso and face. One of his shot went wildly off target, his aim disrupted by the shockwave, but the other hit Kolinsky square in his left shoulder causing him to stagger away in pain.  
  
Spurred out of her catatonia and into action by the latest events, Root crossed the few paces separated her from Kolinsky with all the speed her tired and broken body could muster and grabbed his right arm, trying to wrestle away the knife from him. The former Samaritan agent struggled with brutal force, taking his knee to her abdomen and elbowing her in the face. Blood started rushing out of Root's noise as her head filled with a wet crushing noise. She let go of the man's arm and fell backwards onto the floor stunned.  
  
\- "Is that all you can do ?", Kolinsky taunted, towering over her as blood trickled from his wounded arm.  
  
\- "Not even close, jackass", came the grunted reply as a battered Joey Durban launched himself at the blond haired murderer, applying pressure to Kolinsky's wounded shoulder as they wrestled for control of the knife, ex soldier turned Machine asset against psychopathic former Samaritan agent. Despite his wounds, it appeared as if Durban superior muscle mass was going to carry the day, Kolinsky struggling to keep his blade oriented toward his foe's body.  
  
In her shaken state, Root barely registered Harper slowly getting up, clearly still disoriented by the earlier blast, Finch starting to stir near her as well. Then she heard Durban cry out in pain.  
  
As they were struggling, Kolinsky had started to submit, slowly relaxing his muscles so that Durban would start to lower him into a crouch position on the ground. Then, as his opponent started to believe he was about to win, he kneed him with vicious violence right into one of the shrapnel cuts on his torso, causing Durban to let out a pained gasp. Then, not losing a second, Kolinsky got up and jammed his knife into the other man's exposed throat.  
  
Root noted that her vision was starting to blur, and realized she was going into shock. Distantly, she heard Harper desperately yell, calling Durban's name as she retrieved her gun from the ground and started shooting blindly at a fleeing Kolinsky. The last thing she saw before consciousness left her was Finch's eyes, wide with horror as he took in what had just happened.  


* * *

  
**> > > PRIMARY OBJECTIVE : Retrieve analog interface... Success.**  
  
**> > > SECONDARY OBJECTIVES: **  
  
**> > Retrieve Samaritan data... Success.**  
  
**> > Neutralize Samaritan Asset 666 (Kolinsky/Vassily)... Failure. -!-**  
  
**> > Ensure assets survival... Failure. -!-**  
  
**-!- ASSET TERMINATED: Durban, Joey -!-**  
  
**> > > ASSESSING OPTIONS... Done.**  
  
**> > INITIATING SEARCH FOR SUBJECT (MAXIMUM PRIORITY) : Samaritan Asset 666.**  


* * *

  
  
_\- "The NYPD is still looking for the man who savagely murdered a former US marine in the very heart of New York city three days ago..."_  
  
_\- "... a manhunt of epic proportions, with more than..."_  
  
_\- "... several known aliases, and tied with a terrifying number of homicides..."_  
  
_\- "The suspect has been linked with last year's bloody attack on the New York Library, and may be also tied to last month's interstate bombing..."_  


* * *

  
There hadn't been much time for congratulations when Petrochenko's "commandeered" private jet landed in New York, where the hapless diplomat and the cargo he had been trying to broker the sale of were swiftly taken into custody by a very pleased agent Doodlum. No, almost none at all. As soon as they cleared the airport, Fusco, Shaw, Baker and Pierce were directed by the Machine to a nearby safe house, were they were greeted by a grim and bruised Harper Rose, who told them what had happened a few mere hours before.  
  
Pierce was hit the worst of them all by the news, muttering incoherently for a few seconds before simply slumping on a chair, a haggard look on his usually smiling face. Fusco had barely known Joey Durban, Baker had only ever tried to kill him and Shaw was Shaw, but to Logan Pierce he had been a friend and a brother in arms. Then they learned who killed him.  
  
\- "Kolinsky ?", Fusco asked, "The bastard who tried to off me last year ?"  
  
\- "And the last of the fuckers who slaughtered my men", Baker completed, standing beside Fusco in dour faced support, much to the detective's surprise.  
  
In a strange moment of begrudging camaraderie, Shaw retrieved a bottle of scotch from a nearby cabinet, took a swig and then offered it to the still unresponsive Pierce, who took it and started drinking.  
  
\- "It makes no sense", she stated blankly, "What in the hell is he still doing here ? And why was the DC team in New York anyway ?"  
  
Harper looked even more ill at ease in that moment, which was no small feat given the circumstances.  
  
\- "What ?", Shaw pressed her on, "Spill it."  
  
\- "Shaw", Harper started hesitantly, "you might want to sit for this one."  
  
\- "Or I may just shoot you. Talk already."  
  
This was a moment of grief for Shaw to, however foreign the concept was to her, and she had no time for games.  
  
\- "All right. We were sent to retrieve Thornhill's interface."  
  
The words came out of Harper's mouth but they made no sense to Shaw. Thornhill was the Machine, and the Machine's interface was... Well, the Machine's interface was that one person she didn't want to be thinking about right now, especially since they had a team member to avenge. That person didn't need to exist in her mind in that moment, in fact she needed her out if she was to stay sharp.  
  
And yet she couldn't help herself.  
  
\- "Root ?", she almost blurted, "Is she alright ?"  
  
Why did she have to ask that ? She had no right to, not after what they'd learned just a moment before.  
  
\- "She was in a sorry state, but she'll pull through. She is in another safe house, Thornhill had her checked by one of her physicians."  
  
Shaw felt what could only be described as a wave of relief wash over her. Which, again, she had no right to and even no wish to.  
  
\- "Hang on", Fusco interjected, "Nutball One is back in town ?"  
  
The detective had been briefed by the team during the flight back to the US, and so was acutely aware of just how upsetting the whole situation was to Shaw.  
  
\- "I'll take you to her", Harper offered as she sat down beside Pierce, taking the bottle from his hand to partake in the liquid comfort and giving him a gentle tap on the leg, "When we're ready to move."  
  
\- "No", Shaw surprised everyone by her blunt answer, "Maybe later. Right now we need to find the loser who killed Joey and make him pay."  
  
\- "Spoken like a true leader", Baker approved, making a show of rummaging through the safe house's armory to retrieve a fearsome looking combat shotgun.  
  
Harper shrugged.  
  
\- "I'm afraid it won't be that easy. Besides, there's someone over there you'll need to see."

* * *

  
The three days following that fateful encounter at the library felt like a haze of pain and tiredness to Root, who came in and out of consciousness as several of the Machine's on call physicians went to check on her condition. Her current state of shock and exertion, combined with Blackwell's and Control's gift to her body meant that she was now bedridden by a relatively minor series of injuries. Her days in he field were, she thought, well and truly over.  
  
When she finally regained her full wits, she was alone in a bedroom, surrounded by mostly unplugged monitoring equipment and with Harold Finch sitting by her side, visibly lost in thought.  
  
\- "Harry ?", she croaked.  
  
\- "Ms. Gro...", he stuttered, jolted into awareness by the sound of her voice, "I mean... Root. You're awake."  
  
\- "Yes", she smiled sadly, "It looks as if my days of being a light sleeper are over..."  
  
Then it hit her. Flashes, bits and pieces of nightmarish memories. The grenades going off, Harper shielding Finch with her body, Durban...  
  
Kolinsky's knife entering Durban's throat, blood rushing out of the wound. The maniacal laughter of Samaritan's prized murderer.  
  
\- "Harold", Root shivered as she spoke, "Joey... Is he ?"  
  
\- "I'm afraid Mr. Durban didn't make it", Finch bowed his head down in sorrow, "He was dead when the ambulance arrived at the library. I am so deeply sorry."  
  
\- "I killed him", a tear rolled down Root's cheek, "Harold, I killed him."  
  
\- "You didn't kill him, Root."  
  
\- "I might as well have. He came there for me, She sent him after Kolinsky and I to help me in spite of myself."  
  
There was a moment of silence, as Finch seemed to ponder what to say next, then he spoke.  
  
\- "It is true the Machine called on us, but ultimately the choice was ours and ours alone."  
  
\- "You don't understand. I had to see this through on my own, I didn't deserve anyone's help... You taught me to value life, Harold, so tell me: how is my life of greater value than his was ?"  
  
\- "It isn't", Finch answered tersely, "But that matter is irrelevant. We all knew the risks involved in attempting to rescue you, and all felt they were worth taking. The world isn't arithmetic, Root. An unsatisfactory sum does not nullify the operations involved in its making."  
  
\- "An unsatisfactory sum ?", Root chuckled without humor, "Is that how we call a man dying now ?"  
  
\- "I'm sorry", Finch said, suddenly getting up, "But you do not get to lecture me on life and death. Whatever burden you feel you now bear is yours to unload however you see fit. But in the end, you are no more responsible for Mr. Durban's fate than I am. Do not disrespect his sacrifice by forgetting you have people now that care about you, whether you want it or not."  
  
Root felt her breath catch in her throat, her voice suddenly gone. Finch's words had hit her hard, and hit true. Blaming herself for Durban's death wouldn't bring him back to life, and the only thing left for her to do was own up to her mistake and strive to correct it. But before she could articulate any of this, the bedroom's door swung open and a painfully familiar face crossed the threshold, her dark eyes shining with the inner fury of a thousand braziers.  
  
\- "Harold", Shaw acknowledged blankly with a curt nod.  
  
\- "Ms. Shaw. It is good to see you."  
  
\- "Yeah. Now get out."

* * *

  
Fusco got inside the riot control vehicle with more difficulty that he ever wanted to admit, his already bulky framed rendered even more so by the addition of a heavy bullet-proof vest and assorted protections.  
  
\- "Hey there Fusco", Dani Silva greeted him as he sat down beside her, "Finally done with your top secret vacation ?"  
  
\- "Hey Silva. You look a helluva lot better than the last time I saw you."  
  
-"Yeah", Silva smiled whimsically, "So, what brings you back to us common cops ? Not to break it to you, but the rumor mill went ape-shit after you disappeared. People said you were either dead or in Gitmo..."  
  
\- "C'mon, you know I can't talk about it. But I'm back now, and not a moment too soon by the looks of it."  
  
\- "Right you are", Silva turned the key in the ignition, starting the lumbering vehicle's engine, "Biggest manhunt this side of the Boston bombing... I read the file, seems like you know the guy ?"  
  
\- "Tried to off me the day my last partner was killed. Been looking for him ever since."  
  
\- "Let's hope today's your lucky day then Fusco."

* * *

  
It occurred to Shaw this wasn't the first time she found herself dumbstruck entering a room containing both Root and medical equipment. The last time she would have been content to let the entire world burn if it went she got to the other woman in time, yet this time she felt a tug inside of her, something deep and buried trying to keep her away from this room, away from what it would trigger within her mind.  
  
\- "Shaw ?"  
  
Just like last time, Root didn't seem to believe who is standing in front of her. But the similarities stopped there. This time Root looked both terrified and full of pain, her eyes sunken and her face ashen. She looked even worse now, in the harsh light of this room, than in London, where the obscurity had at least done her the favor of concealing just how broken she was.  
  
\- "I...", Root continued, her throat feeling horribly sore, "I don't know what to say."  
  
\- "Then shut up for once", Shaw snapped bluntly, standing her ground a couple paces from the bed, "and listen."  
  
She took a breath. Clearly, there's stuff she wanted to say, but what exactly ? In doubt, she elected to start for the most obvious part, that one thing she had been wanting to tell Root for ages now.  
  
\- "Screw you Root, screw you to hell and back. Screw you for making me feel these... things, screw you for being you, screw you for being so uptight you couldn't even ask for help, screw you for not trusting despite all your...words, and all those things you said you felt..." , she stopped, her dark eyes piercing Root's like two fiery lances of fury, "But most of all, Root... Screw you for being away."  
  
Root's eyes were red and starting to well up now. Her lips shivered slightly as she tried to speak.  
  
\- "Sameen, I... You... I had to do this alone, I couldn't..."  
  
\- "Yeah, right", Shaw snorted, cutting her off, "Would you for a minute stop your stupid ass dramatics and be real ? Whatever it is that happened before you left, whatever it is you are trying to shield me and the others from, we can take it. Have you looked at us ? Every single one of us is a burning pile of fiery garbage and you know it. So I'm giving you a choice, Root: either you stop moping around and own up to what you did, or I walk away. For good."  
  
Tears rolled on Root's cheek as she started to realize just how wrong she had been. Just how wrong her decision to flee and try to resolve the situation on her own had been. Her life had changed so brutally these past few months she hadn't even taken the time to fully process what that meant for her, the implications of it all.  
  
She had convinced herself she trusted Shaw when in fact she didn't. Not entirely, not unconditionally. At least not until then.  
  
\- "I'm so sorry Sameen", she almost sobbed, trying her best to keep a modicum of composure.  
  
To her surprise, Shaw walked to her side, sat on the chair Finch had occupied just a few minutes earlier and took Root's hand in hers.  
  
\- "Sorry doesn't cut it Root", she said softly, "Now start talking."  


* * *

  
**> > > ACCESSING SAMARITAN ARCHIVE...**  
  
**> > PARSING DATA...**  
  
**>   SECONDARY SEARCH: KEYWORDS "Roth, Eugene"; "Groves, Samantha"; "Root" ...**  
  
**-!- MATCHING FILE FOUND -!-**  
  
**> > > DECOMPRESSING... Done.**  
  
**> > FILETYPE: DECRYPTED AUDIO RECORDING. **  
  
**> READING...**  
  
**// VOICE MATCH FOUND: Greer, John [SAMARITAN PRIMARY]**  
  
@jgreer: You have my attention, Mr... ?  
  
**// VOICE MATCHING IN PROGRESS...**  
  
@unknown: My name is irrelevant, Mr. Greer.  
  
**-!- VOICE IS MECHANICALLY DISTORTED -!-**  
  
**// ATTEMPTING TO EXTRACT UNCORRUPTED VOICE SAMPLE... Failure.**  
  
@jgreer: You're right. Samaritan will soon tell me all about you anyway. In the meantime, you said you had information we could be interested in ?  
  
@unknown: Do not overestimate your pet, Mr. Greer. We have been hiding from one just like it for a while now. As far as you are concerned, we do not exist.  
  
@jgreer: Words are just wind. Get to the point before I loose patience.  
  
@unknown: As you wish. We have picked up chatter inside your organization indicating an interest in one Samantha Groves.  
  
@jgreer: Interesting. And what interest might we have in this particular individual pray tell ?  
  
@unknown: To be honest with you, I don't know. But I surmise it can't be good, can it ?  
  
@jgreer: And what would you want in exchange for that information ?  
  
@unknown: Absolutely nothing but the satisfaction to see her suffer. Does that seem fair to you ?  
  
**// ATTEMPTING TO EXTRACT UNCORRUPTED VOICE SAMPLE... Failure.**  
  
@jgreer: You are either a very generous man or a liar. Either way, I'm listening. But be forewarned: you may think yourself out of our reach, but that is folly. Sooner or later, we will find you, and when that happens your offering had better have proven useful.  
  
@unknown: You know, I have been watching Root for far longer than you have. In fact, I like to think I know with exceptional precision how she operates. And how to lure her into the deadliest of traps. See, I understand your latest... guest isn't exactly talking, is she ? Well, I think I can do the talking for her.  
  
**// ATTEMPTING TO EXTRACT UNCORRUPTED VOICE SAMPLE...**  


* * *

  
  
_\- "Here", Root sighs, turning away from the computer, "It is rudimentary, but it should work."_  
  
_In her head, the voice seems once again very pleased._  
  
_\- "Excellent. I know your knowledge of this particular system would be of assistance."_  
  
_\- "What I did is nothing like the Machine was", Root scoffs, "I simply plugged you into several deprecated government APIs, the rest is up to you."_  
  
_\- "Still, that should make our job so much easier. Thank you, Root. You have proven invaluable, as usual."_  
  
_\- "Can I go now ?", Root asks impatiently, trying her best not to dwell on the possible answers._  
  
_\- "But of course. One last question though... It is my understanding that both your... Machine and the government's open system were destroyed by ICE-9. Can you confirm this information."_  
  
_Root raises an eyebrow. Maybe these guys aren't omniscient after all._  
  
_\- "Before you answer", the voice warns, "Know this. I have no issue with your friends, no reason to ever come after them. But lie to me now, and I swear to you I will destroy all that is dear to you."_  
  
_\- "They were both destroyed", Root answers decisively, "None subsists."_  
  
_She knows she has to protect Her at all costs. She has to buy time._  
  
_\- "Thank you", the voice says as a concealed door opens, "You may go now. But Root ?"_  
  
_\- "Yes ?"_  
  
_\- "I told you I have no issues with your friends. That, I'm afraid, doesn't hold true in your case. Know this: I will kill you. Not now, not tomorrow, but someday. You will not see it coming, and no warning will be given. So I suggest you make you peace with that. Goodbye."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of heavy, and starts unraveling the Gordian knot I tied months ago. Next episode will be titled "Name of the Beast", and deal with the hunt for Kolinsky and what exactly Root is telling Shaw in there.
> 
> Thanks for your support. This is a difficult bit of the story to write, that I had planned a year ago already... I wanted to bring Finch back into the story and up the stakes a bit, without detracting from the main villain buildup, which is precisely why I introduced both Kolinsky and the Faceless back in WBttM. Let me know how you feel.


	11. Name of the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for Kolinsky goe on.

_\- "So, you're the FriendCzar guy ?"_  
  
_Logan Pierce cocks an eyebrow, smiling knowingly at his interlocutor._  
  
_\- "I'm afraid that little piece of trivia is quite dated, Mr... ?"_  
  
_\- "Durban", the other man replies, extending a hand, "Joseph Durban."_  
  
_Pierce takes the proffered hand and shakes it with vigor._  
  
_\- "Joseph, eh ?"_  
  
_\- "Yeah", Durban shrugs, "My friend call me Joey."_  
  
_\- "What brings you to my neck of the woods, Mr. Durban ?", Pierce asks as he sits across the table from the other man, "Not that I mind social calls, especially with the kind of gifts you bear."_  
  
_Durban chuckles as he slides the very expensive bottle of scotch across the table to Pierce._  
  
_\- "A mutual friend said it would get me in."_  
  
_\- "A mutual friend ?", Pierce seems amused. Of course his security had objections about letting the man in simply on the account that he was bringing some overpriced alcoholic beverage, but it was indeed his host's favorite. And Logan Pierce had never been one to turn down a promising encounter._  
  
_\- "Well, at least that's what she told me", as he speaks, he produces a business card out of his jacket pocket and hands it over to Pierce, who takes a look at it, his smile growing._  
  
_\- "Mr Durban", he says, getting up and gesturing for his guest to follow him, "a friend to Ms. Thornhill is a friend to Logan Pierce. Please, allow me to give you a tour of our... facilities."_  
  


* * *

  
The three volleys echoed across the otherwise silent cemetery, furthering the impression of gravitas that permeated the scene unfolding within it. Very few people had actually been allowed in, owing as much to the extremely tight security in place than to Joseph Durban's family and friends wanting to avoid a small army of journalists and curious bystanders being present.  
  
\- "I am so sorry", Logan Pierce said to a distraught Pia Durban after the ceremony, "Your husband was like a brother to me."  
  
\- "And to me", Harper Rose added, softly grasping Joey Durban's widow arm.  
  
\- "I guess", Pia said softly, "I always knew this could happen but... Expecting it doesn't make it any easier."  
  
\- "We'll find the monster who did this", Pierce promised with grim determination lighting his haggard and tired face, "You have my word."  
  
A little further away, Harold Finch was standing beside Sameen Shaw and Root, the latter quite visibly hanging onto the former's arm, struggling to stand upright and keep her composure.  
  
\- "A few years ago", Finch said in a low and sorrowful voice, "Mr. Reese and I got Mr. Durban's number. Saved him, allowed him to leave the city and make a better life for himself and his then-fiancée. I remember John felt a certain... kinship with him. I guess he was more right than even he knew."  
  
\- "People have different set of skills", Shaw answered, her gaze lost in the distance, "Soldiers... They know how to protect, and how to die."  
  
\- "He died saving me", Root croaked beside her, "A woman that does not exist. He was just like John, Harold, in more ways than one."  
  
\- "I'm afraid", Finch seemed deeply concerned, his voice almost a whisper, "That the mayhem is just beginning. Mr. Durban will only be the first of many lives taken if Pavel Kolinsky isn't stopped. Has the Machine given us anything ?"  
  
\- "Another five numbers this morning", Root sighed, "I sent them to Fusco and Baker but... "  
  
\- "This is pointless, Finch", Shaw grunted, "Nobody has a clue what's going on, your Machine included."  
  
For days know, the Machine had been sending the team numbers connected to Kolinsky, desperately trying to predict where the former Samaritan agent would strike next. And yet, none of these people's life had been threatened yet.  
  
\- "She says She hasn't a full picture yet", Root explained, "Kolinsky is a dangerous opponent, difficult to predict, even for Her. We have to find him."  
  
\- "I couldn't agree more", Finch turned to face the two women, "And yet a full week has come and gone, with the entire NYPD looking for the man to no avail."  
  
\- "It took Root and the Machine five weeks to locate him in the first place", Shaw muttered, visibly still unsettled by the reminiscence, "I don't think this guy is gonna be found unless we pull all the stops."  
  


* * *

  
**> > > SEARCH IN PROGRESS: Samaritan Asset 666 **  
  
**> > ENLISTING AUXILIARY: Yogorov, Peter...**  
  


* * *

  
\- "Let him pass", Peter Yogorov ordered his men as he saw two familiar faces enter the bar's backroom, "Friends ! What can I do for you ?"  
  
\- "We need someone located", Reginald Baker said as he sat down in the booth, across from Yogorov, soon imitated by a tense looking Lionel Fusco.  
  
\- "Oh", Yogorov smiled, "So I take the NYPD's manhunt of the century isn't going as expected, uh ? Such a shame..."  
  
\- "All right", Fusco regained his composure, trying his best to look menacing, "Listen smartass, we saved your bacon last time around, so you better play nice, ok ?"  
  
\- "Not to mention", Baker emphasized, "that we both know having the police running around and canvassing the whole city isn't exactly good for business, so don't try and act like you don't want this to end as much as we do."  
  
\- "You misunderstand, gentleman", Yogorov poured himself a drink from a dubious looking bottle of transparent liquid, "Must I remind you who owns the streets of New York currently ? I'm afraid I'm not the one who's livelihood is put into jeopardy..."  
  
\- "Settle your little feud with Galvani on your own time", Fusco slapped the palm of his hand on the table, eliciting a few threatening reactions from the assembled mobsters before Yogorov held out his hand to calm everybody down, "Or better yet, just don't. You still owe us."  
  
\- "I told you I was going to collect eventually", Baker said softly, "Or is your word not your bond ?"  
  
\- "Friends, friends", Yogorov extending his hands, showing his palms to his interlocutors, "I was merely making small talk, no need to get so tense... I will help you with your little problem, no worries. Besides, I wouldn't want to risk such a promising and blooming business relationship, would I ?"  
  
As the Russian mob boss started ordering his men around, joining the hunt for Pavel Kolinsky, Fusco couldn't help but be reminded of a similar situation he and the Machine's asset had once found themselves in, with regards to another crime lord. And he didn't like that parallel one bit.

* * *

  
The FBI, under senior agent Heather Holland's supervision, had joined the search four days after Durban's murder, soon followed by a detachment of the National Guard. The idea of a mass murderer on the loose in the very heart of New York city, especially one linked to so many high profile attacks as Pavel Kolinsky, had riled the public opinion up, and people were know clamoring for answers. Reporters swarmed every press conference from the joint taskforce, pressuring whoever was unlucky enough to be in front of them for answers.  
  
But there were no answers to give, only a lengthening and top secret list of persons of interest to be placed under constant surveillance by an already overextended police force. A list that came from a highly confidential source and whose very existence rattled any who knew of it.  
  
As an aside, the police lockdown of the city had the side effect of causing a great number of drugs labs and weapons stockpiles, as well as several contraband stashes to be uncovered and dismantled, allowing law enforcement to at least claim a sizable victory in that area. Of course, nobody questioned the fact that all of these outfits had been under the protection of the infamous newly minted kingpin of New York, Silvio Galvani.

* * *

  
**> > > SEARCH IN PROGRESS: Samaritan Asset 666  **  
  
**-!- WIDESPREAD DISTURBANCES IN AREA: New York City -!-**  
  
**-!- EXPECTED POWER VACUUM -!-**  
  


* * *

  
After all these weeks of emotional distress and all around lameness, Shaw found it felt extremely good to pummel Galvani's goons into the ground. Maybe even a little _too_ good. Still, it would need to serve as her tether for now. Beating people up, she felt, would make for an OK way to anchor her to reality until such a time when she would feel... Home again in this simulation, or something of the sort.  
  
\- "All right", she said to the one she had identified as the head thug before starting to wipe the warehouse floor with him and his friends, "You have the flashiest and ugliest shirt, meaning you must be in charge here. So you get to answer my questions."  
  
As Shaw strolled leisurely in his direction, the man started to crawl away from her, as far as his broken legs would let him, until the former agent put a boot to his torso, bending over to look him in his terrified eyes.  
  
\- "Where", she whispered harshly, "is Pavel Kolinsky ?"  
  
\- "I have no idea who you're...", the man stuttered before letting out a yelp of pain as Shaw applied pressure to his bruised rib with her heel, "Stop it, I swear to you I don't know !"  
  
\- "Listen to me you stupid weasel", Shaw's mouth was now inches away from the thug's broken nose, "I hope for your sake that you do know something I don't. Because else, well that means I just put blood all over a perfectly good pair of jeans for nothing... And that would me make me... Very angry."  
  
Minutes later, Shaw jabbed her earpiece as she exited the warehouse. It felt weird in a way to be reporting to Finch again, but in the current situation he was the only one, apart from maybe Baker of all people, she trusted to stay level headed. Root was a mess and so was Pierce, albeit a more vengeful one, and she still couldn't get a good reading on Harper's intentions.  
  
\- "Finch ? I've got a lead. Seems like a man matching Kolinsky's description paid my old friend Silvio Galvani a visit a couple days ago. I'm on my way now."  
  
She hung up, then, as an afterthought, dialed Fusco's number as well.  
  
\- "Hey Lionel, I've got a few mobsters for you to pick up in Brooklyn... And Lionel ? Bring an ambulance. Or five."  
  


* * *

  
Root had spent the last few days trying hard to snap out of her shaken state, applying her mind to the task at hand with a hint of the razor sharp focus she used to be so easily able to demonstrate. She was making progress, but it was abundantly clear to her that reaching peek efficiency would require her to address certain issues more thoroughly than she had. But for now, she had to try and push all of that back in a corner of her mind. Lives depended on it.  
  
Apart from her brief outing at Durban's funeral, she had stayed put in the safehouse with Finch, acting as both support to the teams on the field and liaison to the Machine, a role that unfortunately did provide her with a lot of time to dwell on her mistakes and regrets.  
  
\- "Very well Ms. Shaw", she heard Finch say from where he was sitting across the room, "I'll send backu... Oh."  
  
\- "She hung up on you again Harry ?", Root's smile didn't reach her eyes.  
  
\- "It would appear so. Couldn't you try to impress upon her the necessity for transparent communication ?"  
  
Root shook her head sadly.  
  
\- "I'm afraid Sameen and I are operating on separate wavelength at the moment. And right now her sole focus is on finding Kolinsky and forcibly removing him from this plane of existence."  
  
\- "Can't say I missed the stress of it all", Finch crossed the room to sit beside Root at her desk, "What you told me, about Eugene Roth... May I ask how she is taking it ?"  
  
\- "You may ask, but I'm not sure I can answer. She took it in strides when I told her but... ", she took a deep breath, looking her interlocutor straight in the eyes as she continued, "I screwed up Harold. I should have trusted her, and I didn't... Now I just don't know if things will ever go back to the way they were."  
  
Much to her surprise, Finch laid an unsteady hand on her shoulder, the gesture both awkward and unspeakably touching.  
  
\- "Certain things have to be dealt with on their own time. Ms. Shaw may not be in the best place mentally speaking, but I'm quite certain that even amongst the present turmoil she will come to see you as a fixed point again soon enough."  
  
There was a moment of silence during which Root couldn't help but smile warmly.  
  
\- "I've missed you Harry."  
  
\- "So did I, Ms Gr... Root, so did I."

* * *

  
The small airfield was utterly deserted, save from one lone and dingy plane, when the three SUV arrived, parking a few meters aways from the aircraft as their very nervous passengers disembarked with urgency sweating out of their every pore and established a defense perimeter, a wall of bright suits and contraband guns protecting their escaping leaders.  
  
\- "I cannot believe this shit", Silvio Galvani fumed as he walked briskly toward the plane, "A full fuckin' year of hard work, gone to waste in an instant because of stupid murdering psychopath."  
  
\- "Business will start again once this is all over", one his lieutenant said tentatively, "But for now it's best to skip town, wait things out."  
  
\- "And hand the fucking city to Yogorov on a silver plater !", Galvani stopped and turn to yell in the other man's face, "Or do you really think all of this is just some freaky coincidence ? Are you really this stupid, Marco ?"  
  
\- "Boss, we need to...", another one of Galvani's men tried to call before being cut off by the unmistakable sound of a self-propelled rocket hitting the plane just behind them, blowing it to pieces and throwing every one of the assembled mobsters to the ground, their ears ringing.  
  
The whole area was soon engulfed in a deep, dark pall of acrid smoke from which emerged a single military-type jeep, engines roaring as it thundered past Galvani's now useless security detail. A couple thugs tried to get back on their feet to fight back, but the vehicle's occupant barely spared them a glance before shooting them in the kneecaps as they disembarked. Galvani slowly got to his feet, dazed and coughing, just in time to be punched in the face by a grief stricken Logan Pierce, sending him back onto the muddy ground.  
  
\- "Good job Mr. Baker", the billionaire said grimly to one of his two companions, "Your particular brand of brutality is starting to grow on me."  
  
\- "What can I say", Reginald Baker shrugged before dispatching another bright suited thug who had had the stupid idea to get up, "I like blowing things up."  
  
\- "Let's take this guy and go", Harper Rose urged them, "Shaw said she has just the place to hold him while we chat."  
  
\- "Yeah", Baker approved as he grabbed Galvani by his shirt's collar and raised him up, "Better for us to be far away when the National Guard get their head out of their collective asses and get around to investigate this."  
  
\- "Don't worry Mr. Galvani", Pierce shot the mob boss a frightening stare with his bloodshot eyes, "We won't be handing you over to the authorities."  
  


* * *

  
Fusco got the call as he exited the riot control vehicle, leaving its armored frame to lead yet another search party into yet another abandoned warehouse. Deep down, he really hoped the Machine or, should everything else fail, Yogorov would come through and put an end to this madness, preferably before the feds ordered them to burn the whole city to the ground. After all that had happened in recent months and the whole Wilkerson incident, special agent Holland seemed determined to clean up the Bureau's track record by bringing Pavel Kolinsky to justice, even if it caused an entire state to spiral into chaos.  
  
\- "That you Glasses ?", Fusco asked, still not quite used to have Finch in his ear once more, "I'm a little busy right now."  
  
\- "Detective", Finch seemed his usual calm and articulate self, which to Fusco was quite remarkable owing to their current situation, "I just got word that our colleagues have taken Silvio Galvani in for questioning. Could you..."  
  
\- "Yeah", Fusco cut him with a scoff, "That got anythin' to do with the tourism plane that got blown up with a rocket launcher earlier ? Thought you being back meant the crazy was gonna be dialed down, guess I was wrong."  
  
\- "Oh my..."  
  
\- "Listen, I got feds crawling up my ass and the goddamn National Guard running around like this is Baghdad, all right ? So get up from behind your computer and get the Suicide Squad back under control before they nuke the city, will ya ?"  
  


* * *

   
Shaw was waiting for them at the safehouse when Baker, Harper and Pierce arrived, dragging a blindfolded and gagged Galvani with them. Wasting no time exchanging pleasantries, they swiftly zip-tied him to a chair in the middle of the living room before Shaw removed the apparatus blocking two of his senses.  
  
\- "Hi Silvio", she whispered threateningly in his hear, "I think I'm gonna enjoy this little reversal."  
  
\- "Hey Shaw", the mobster tried to plaster his best fake smile across his face, failing miserably, "there must be some kind of misunderstanding..."  
  
\- "The only misunderstanding here", Pierce said as he took a step in Galvani's direction, "Is the one where you think this is going to be a civil conversation. See, you have made a very bad decision the day you chose to help the man who killed a dear friend of man hide from us, and the only way you're leaving this room alive, Mr. Galvani, is to tell us exactly where", his voice grew intense, "Is. Pavel. Kolinsky."  
  
\- "Better start talking", Baker emphasized Pierce's words by cocking a comically huge shotgun right in Galvani's face, "Before I turn your face into a Picasso."  
  
\- "Shaw", Galvani pleaded, his eyes fixated on the short woman, "You know what happened with Silence wasn't personal don't you ? I mean, you did bust out my worse enemy from the joint, what was I supposed to do ?"  
  
\- "All right", Shaw grunted, "Less talking, more screaming. Baker ? I'm pretty sure he doesn't need his junk to talk."  
  
With a predatory smile, Baker lowered the aim of his shotgun to Galvani's groin area, an eyebrow raised at the mobster terrified expression.  
  
\- "Last chance Mr. Galvani", Pierce threatened, "We know Kolinsky went to you for help mere hours before the city was put on full lockdown. We know he didn't escape, which means you gave him shelter somewhere. In one of your most secure hideouts maybe ? Or do you think that piece of human garbage is worth dying for ?"  
  
\- "All right, all right you got me", Galvani squirmed in his chair, trying in vain to shift Baker's aim somewhat, "It's true, the man came to me... But he wasn't looking for an exit strategy !"  
  
\- "What was he looking for then ?", Harper broke her silence, "And where is he now ?"  
  
\- "I don't know where he is, I swear ! All I know is that he wanted some old subway maps, like, very old ones, very hard to get. No digital copies exist so I had to call in favors with a couple pawnbrokers I know."  
  
\- "Subway maps ?", Pierce asked in disbelief, "Couldn't you at least try to find a more convincing lie to tell us ?"  
  
\- "It's all true I swear ! Paid top dollar for it too... I never saw the guy again, on my mother's grave."  
  
Shaw and Baker exchanged a knowing glance, both former agents having reached the same conclusion. The idea was both obvious enough to be overlooked by the authorities at first and cunning enough to put Kolinsky out of the Machine's reach, giving him more than enough time to plan whatever next step his evil mind felt like taking.  
  
\- "Thank you", Baker deadpanned as he clubbed Galvani unconscious with a single sweep of his shotgun's butt, "You thinking what I'm thinking Shaw ?"  
  
\- "Yeah", Shaw acquiesced, "Bastard is hiding out in one of the ghost tunnels."  
  


* * *

  
**> > > SEARCH IN PROGRESS: Samaritan Asset 666  **  
  
**-!- TARGET ASSUMED TO BE HIDING IN OUT OF REACH AREA -!-**  
  
**> > > LOCATING MAP PROVIDER...**  
  
**> > > ESTIMATING REQUIRED MANPOWER FOR SUCCESSFUL SEARCH AND RETRIEVAL OF TARGET... Done.**  
  
**-!- REQUIRED MANPOWER EXCEEDS NUMBER OF ASSETS -!-**  
  
**> > INITIATING SECONDARY PROTOCOL: Asset.conscription()**  
  


* * *

  
Within minutes of Galvani's interrogation, the phone calls started coming. First, special agent Holland's phone rang, soon followed by the secure line used by the National Guard colonel on site. Then, the order started to be passed down from precinct to precinct, operational center to operational center. Soon, the entire throng of law enforcement and military personnel that were moments ago scouring New York City were all headed toward the nearest subway access point, united in a singular purpose.  
  
Word had come from the same confidential source that had given them all those name of persons of interest during the past week that Pavel Kolinsky had found refuge in one of the city's abandoned subway tunnels. Somewhere amidst that vast network of silent concrete, whose oldest, most accurate maps hand never been fully committed to digital archive, the man the world had been looking for was laying in wait, no doubt brewing some new atrocious act of terror.  
  
And so, almost as one man, the search parties went down. Communications were sketchy at best, and many lost their way trying to make head or tails of the printouts that had been thrust into their hands by befuddled city planning officials. Yet, meter after meter, tunnel after tunnel, they started the slow work of flushing the beast out of its lair.  
  
Meanwhile, in the shadows, the true hunters bode their time, ever vigilant, waiting for a sign that their quarry had been found.

* * *

  
Still, as the long, arduous hunt dragged on, the numbers kept coming. And that, Root thought, cannot just be a glitch, despite what the others and Harold seemed to believe. The Machine did not simply glitch, and the fact that even She wasn't forthcoming on why these particular numbers were showing up did not bode well at all.  
  
\- "She isn't telling me Harry", she said, "And I do not like this. Numbers do not come for no reason."  
  
\- "You said it yourself, we're dealing with a very volatile individual here", Finch replied, "Would it be outside the realm of possibility that the Machine's anticipation routines are somehow thrown into disarray by that fact ? It wouldn't be the first time it's been blindsided, maybe this is its way of trying to compensate ?"  
  
Root shook her head. After all they'd been through, how could Harold Finch still refer to his creation as an "it" ?  
  
\- "Something's wrong", she persisted, "and neither us nor She can figure it out."  
  
\- "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be cautious, in any event", Finch nodded, "I'll continue looking into them... Maybe there's something the Machine missed."  
  
While at first she was trying hard not to scoff at that very idea, Root quickly realized it was actually a very distinct possibility. As all-seeing and super-intelligent as the Machine was, it still lacked the very human ability to _feel_ threads between factually different people. So she got back to work, looking over each and everyone of their number's digital footprint with Finch, looking for the proverbial needle in the networked haystack.  
  


* * *

  
**> > > SEARCH IN PROGRESS: Samaritan Asset 666  **  
  
**> > MONITORING OFFICIAL COMMUNICATION CHANNELS... **  
  
**-!- HIT DETECTED -!-**  
  
\- "Sir, somebody has been here recently. We found canned food and several discarded old maps."  
  
**> > > PARSING DATA...  **  
  
\- "Stand by. If the bastard is close we're sending in the big guns. I'm not risking him escaping again."  
  
**> > > USING ECHOLOCATION TO PINPOINT LIKELY TARGET POSITION... Done.**  
  
**> > ALERTING ASSETS...**  
  


* * *

  
As soon as the Machine alerted her, Root dialed Shaw's number, who was riding around the search are with Baker, Pierce and Harper, waiting for the signal to go in.  
  
\- "Shaw, She says she has a probable location for Kolinsky. She's sending it to you right now."  
  
\- "About damn time. The grunts down there gonna be a problem ?"  
  
\- "They're standing by, waiting for a SpecOps team to go in. You should be able to slip past them using one of the auxiliary access tunnels. Security's light down there, and Lionel is already there. He'll wave you past."  
  
\- "We'll be in and out before they notice it", Shaw smiled joylessly, "I'll report back when we have the bastard."  
  
There was a silence on the other end of the line, as if Root was taking a deep breath.  
  
\- "Sameen ?"  
  
\- "Yeah, I know Root, don't sweat it. I'm not dying in some godforsaken subway tunnel."  
  
Then she hung up, and put her foot down on the gas pedal. Finally, she was going to be able to give the bastard who killed Durban a piece of her mind. And probably a bullet or fifty, for good measure.  
  


* * *

  
  
**> > > ASSETS DISPATCHED TO LOCATION.**  
  
**> > > SPECOPS UNIT J54-Aleph ETA : 17 minutes 54 seconds.**  
  


* * *

  
\- "Root ?", Finch's voice tore the hacker from her worried reverie, "I think I've found something."  
  
In couple hurried paces, she was across the room, bending over the man's shoulder to look on his computer screen. Finch seemed even preoccupied than his usual morose self, pointing to a stream of cascading windows in front of him.  
  
\- "I may have found a connection between all our latest numbers. It's a long shot but it could be something... See ? "  
  
\- "What am I looking at Harold ?", Root frowned, trying to make head or tails of Finch's seemingly incoherent stream of data.  
  
\- "FriendCzar profiles", the man said as it it explained it all.  
  
\- "FriendCzar ? Pierce's social networking site ?"  
  
\- "Former social networking site", Finch corrected, swiveling his chair to face Root, "When Mr. Pierce got himself fired by FriendCzar's board, he launched a concurrent service who soon utterly cannibalized it. It never quite recovered, barely remaining afloat by launching several paid subscription models... Either way, it seems as if all of our numbers still update their profiles on FriendCzar on a regular basis, which given its current state of business seems to be quite a remarkable coincidence."  
  
Realization started to down on Root. Finch was right, this couldn't be coincidental and was precisely the sort of things the Machine would miss given her current focus. Which meant...  
  
\- "Harold", she started, "What are you saying ?"  
  
\- "I'm saying", Finch looked very unsettled now, his eyes shifting their gaze from point to point in the room before fixating on his interlocutor, "That these numbers were never meant for the Machine."  
  
\- "They were meant for us."  
  
\- "Yes, it seems as if Kolinsky is taunting us by feeding the Machine false information. He must have left digital clues long before he went underground, to make It think he was going to go after these people, which means..."  
  
\- "... that all of this was planned", Root's heart sank as dread filled her mind, "Harold, it's a trap ! The maps, the tunnels, the numbers, all of it !"  
  


* * *

  
New Yorkers always displayed a stupefying resilience to traumatic events, as they had had ample opportunity to show in the past few decades. This meant that, even though there was a manhunt of gargantuan proportions going on underneath them, the city streets were far from deserted. That, in turn meant, that it was very easy for a man to blend into a crowd and move almost unseen, making use of camera deadzones and subtle disguises.  
  
But now that man was coming out of hiding. In the middle of a crowded street, a lone figure stopped in the middle of a pedestrian crossing and, facing the nearest traffic camera, slowly removed the scarf and hat obscuring his face. Then, he looked straight at the read, unwavering LED dot, and blinked.  
  
\- "Hello there", Pavel Kolinsky smiled, viciousness illuminating his cold grey eyes, "Can you see me ?"

* * *

  
**-!- TARGET LOCATED OUTSIDE OF ESTABLISHED GEOFENCE -!-**  
  
**> > > ASSESSING THREAT TO ASSETS... Maximal -!-**  
  
**-!- EMERGENCY WARNING PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED -!-**  
  


* * *

  
Information started rushing into Root's ear, the Machine almost overwhelming her with data as she figured things out. Something terrible was about to happen, and she had to warn all her assets at once. Still, even though she was aware of that fact, the ASI's interface felt there is one she had to warn herself.  
  
\- "Shaw ?"  
  


* * *

  
Getting inside what the local authorities and military had the gall to call a "cordoned-off zone" had been so easy Shaw felt almost bad for them. Such a bunch of amateurs, playing around with their toys and manpower, projecting strength in all directions and yet, ultimately, so deeply flawed in their very core. The small team, comprising Shaw, Baker, Pierce and Harper efficiently and silently made their way to the coordinates the Machine had sent them, namely a small and damp section of an old service tunnel, somewhere out of the way and mostly out of the maps.  
  
The perfect hiding place, but also the perfect place for an ambush.  
  
The Machine's assets made their way forward, carefully illuminating the area with the crossed beams of their flashlight, finding it utterly empty safe for a single chair in the very center of it.  
  
\- "As if we'd fall for a trap so obvious", Shaw snorted, gesturing to Baker, "The area is probably booby trapped, cover me", then yelling, her voice echoing across the empty tunnel, "Hey jackass ! Pizza delivery !"  
  
Only the silence answered her words, and the team fanned out around the room, looking for some indication of a booby trap, or any sign that Kolinsky had been here at all.  
  
\- "I've got a bad feeling about this", Baker muttered.  
  
\- "Oh", Shaw grunted, "come o..."  
  
Before she could finish, her earpiece emitted a shrill beep of warning, the Machine's telltale sign that something was very, very wrong, quickly followed by a panicked Root's voice.  
  
\- "Shaw ?"  
  
\- "Root ? What's going on, is the Mach..."  
  
\- "Sameen, you have to get out of here now !"  
  
Shaw turned to look at Baker, her well-honed survival reflexes kickstarted by the urgency in Root's tone.  
  
\- "We have to get out, now !"  
  
The whole team started to move, making for the exit with all haste, but before the could reach it a deafening sound filled their ears as several concealed high-yield explosive charges detonated, bringing the tunnel down upon them.  
  


* * *

  
\- "Shaw ?!", Root pleaded amidst the static that now filled her right ear, "Sameen ?!"  
  
\- "What happened ?", Finch was up now, and looked deeply concerned.  
  
\- "I've lost them", Root seemed utterly distraught, and felt completely helpless, "Something has gone wrong, we need to get them."  
  
With a swiftness that belied both his usually calm demeanor and his injuries, Finch grabbed his coat and made for the door.  
  
\- "I'll alert detective Fusco, maybe he'll be able to find out what happened. What is the Machine telling you ?"  
  
As he spoke, he turned to face Root and noticed she was frozen into place, her eyes wide with terror.  
  
\- "Root ?", Finch asked, "What is she telling you ?"  
  
The words that came out of the hacker's mouth made it seem like the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped several degrees.  
  
\- "She's telling me to run."  
  
Behind Finch, the door to the safe house swung open, revealing a grinning Pavel Kolinsky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you all for reading ! 
> 
> Next chapter will be called "Calvary" and close this little three-parter.


	12. Calvary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kolinsky shows his hand. Shaw and her team face a rocky situation.

\- "There was some sort of explosion..."  
  
**> > > ASSESSING ASSETS SITUATION...**  
  
\- "SpecOps team, abort mission, I repeat..."  
  
**-!- CONTACT LOST WITH ASSETS -!-**  
  
**> > PRIMARY ASSET IDENTIFIED : Shaw, Sameen.**  
  
**> SITUATION : contact lost -!- **  
  
**> > PRIMARY ASSET IDENTIFIED : Fusco, Lionel.**  
  
**> SITUATION : operational.**  
  
**> > ASSET IDENTIFIED : Baker, Reginald.**  
  
**> SITUATION : contact lost -!- **  
  
**> > PRIMARY ASSET IDENTIFIED : Pierce, Logan.**  
  
**> SITUATION : contact lost -!- **  
  
**> > ASSET IDENTIFIED : [redacted], Harper.**  
  
**> SITUATION : contact lost -!- **  
  
**> > ANALOG INTERFACE IDENTIFIED : Groves, Samantha. **  
  
**> NOTE TO SELF : preferred name is Root.**  
  
**> SITUATION : in imminent danger -!- **  
  
**> > ADMIN IDENTIFIED : Finch, Harold.**  
  
**> SITUATION : in imminent danger -!-  **  
  
**> > > ASSESSING OPTIONS...**  
  
**-!- THREAT TO ASSETS LOCATED : Samaritan Agent 666 -!-**  
  
**> > SELECTING ACTION SUBROUTINE...**  
  
**> > PARSING ETHICS DATABASE...**  
  
**> SUBROUTINE SELECTED : eliminate.**  
  


* * *

  
The darkness was overbearing Sameen Shaw's senses, and she found herself gasping for air amid an atmosphere that felt like it was filled with solid rock. Feeling something hard against her shoulder, she tried to roll over but pain shot through her shoulder, causing memories to flash back through her muddled mind.  
  
_Kolinsky. The tunnels. The explosion. Root._  
  
She did not panic. A trained killer like herself had survived worse than being stuck in the dark. Still, she didn't exactly relish the prospect of being buried alive, slowly dying a helpless, suffocating death. No, that just wouldn't do. She was Sameen Shaw, she wasn't going to perish like some trapped rat.  
  
\- "Anybody still breathing ?", she croaked, slowly moving her free hand around to try and get a literal grasp on her current predicament. At first glance, it seemed as if her left arm was stuck under rubble and quite possibly broken, but she felt otherwise unharmed.  
  
\- "I think so", came a first reply, Reginald Baker's voice, "What the hell just happened ?"  
  
\- "Yeah", Logan Pierce groaned, "I'd like to know that as well."  
  
\- "We got our asses caved in, you geniuses", Harper Rose answered, her tone dripping sarcasm, "I thought Thornhill was supposed to be some sort of modern God, how come she didn't warn us ?"  
  
Shaw managed to extricate her arm from its rocky prison. Yeah, she thought, definitely broken.  
  
\- "You'll find the damn thing tends to go haywire at the worst possible moment. Sometimes I think it runs on Windows Vista or something..."  
  
There was a blinding flash as someone, quite probably that asshole Baker, managed to turn his flashlight on. When her eyes finally accommodated, Shaw saw she was now in narrow, rubble filled area of tunnel with no exit in sight.  
  
\- "You look like shit, Shaw."  
  
At least the team seemed it wasn't that much the worst for wear, apart from a few scratches and a lot of bruises. Baker had a nasty gash on his forehead, but Shaw theorized the man could quite possibly function without a brain without it mattering to much.  
  
\- "And you're an asshole, _Reginald_.", she got up, groaning but refusing Baker's proffered hand, "All right, let's find a way out of this mess before the whole damn thing collapses on our heads."  
  


* * *

  
There was a brief moment in which Root thought she might have a chance to take Kolinsky down before he entered the safe house. A brief moment in which she believed she could grab the gun from her waistband and shoot him dead on the spot. A brief moment in which she hoped she and Finch would make it out of this alive, having finally vanquished the devil that had somehow baited them into a most cunning trap.  
  
The distinctive click of a cocking handgun killed that moment. Killed that hope.  
  
\- "Please", Kolinsky smiled in mocking politeness, "Put that thing away, will you ?"  
  
Root realized her hand had already tightened around the but of her concealed pistol, her back still to the former Samaritan agent.  
  
**Do what he says** , came the voice in her ear, imperative yet somehow almost pleading.  
  
\- "Root", Finch's eyes were full of terror now, "Don't."  
  
She played it out in her mind, trying to evaluate her chances of at least getting one shot out before she was gunned down. Maybe she could incapacitate him, save Finch, save the others. That would be worth it, wouldn't it ?  
  
\- "Don't", Finch pleaded once again.  
  
With a defeated sigh, Root slowly pulled the gun out and deposited it on a nearby table before taking a step back to stand with Finch, facing their aggressor.  
  
\- "Very good", Kolinsky nodded, "Now please, put your phones down as well. We're going on a little trip you and I."  
  


* * *

  
\- "Lionel ?", the all-too familiar voice came out of Fusco's phone before he even picked up, "I need your assistance."  
  
It was bad enough having to step away from your partner and half the cops in the city to take a phone call in the middle of what appeared to be yet another crazy terror attacks in the heart of New York, but it was going to be quite another explaining to them whatever crazy stunt the detective was sure he was about to be asked to perform.  
  
\- "I'm a little swamped right now Robot-Puffs", he grunted with just a hint of genuine concern, "Can't the nut squad handle this one on their own ?"  
  
\- "I'm sorry, but you are my only available asset right now with a non--zero chance of solving this crisis. I could alert the National Guard on this new development but I am afraid that is exactly what he wants..."  
  
\- "What who wants ?", Fusco asked as understanding dawned on him, "You mean you found the crazy psycho we're chasing around ?"  
  
\- "He has my interface and admin", the Machine confirmed, "I won't be able to track him for long, as he'll probably go to ground very soon."  
  
Fusco sighed, a concerned furrow appearing on his brow. That did not bode well, especially since the Machine had avoided any mention of Shaw and the others.  
  
\- "Take Silva", the ASI added, "You'll need backup you can depend on where we're going."

* * *

  
An explosion in the New York underground was bound to create yet another commotion of epic proportions, even though it didn't appear to have made any casualty at the moment. Bomb squads had been accompanying the search parties, meaning special agent Holland and her military counterparts were quite sure there were no such traps to be sprung within the tunnels their forces were currently occupying, but still elected to cordon off the area until they could fully assess the situation.  
  
A request was put in for more special forces units to be dispatched to the area with veteran demolition experts. Whatever Kolinsky had been planning to pull down there, the powers that be were confident they would foil it. All they needed now was time and a steady hand.

* * *

  
**-!- CONTACT LOST WITH ASSETS -!-**  
  
**> > ANALOG INTERFACE IDENTIFIED : Groves, Samantha. **  
  
**> NOTE TO SELF : preferred name is Root.**  
  
**> SITUATION : contact lost -!- **  
  
**> > ADMIN IDENTIFIED : Finch, Harold.**  
  
**> SITUATION : contact lost -!-**  
  


* * *

  
As if trudging around with a broken arm in the middle of a collapsed tunnel wasn't bad enough, Shaw was now starting to realize the damn injury was slowing her down. When had she become this old ?  
  
\- "You alright Shaw ?", Baker ask as he took a break from trying to assess whether or not the boulder in front of him could be moved without bringing the whole place on their heads, "You look pale."  
  
\- "I'm a sun loving girl, sue me."  
  
A few paces away from them, seemingly so far away in the gaping darkness, Pierce threw up his arms.  
  
\- "This is hopeless, we're caved in."  
  
\- "Maybe we should just take our chances with the search parties", Harper concurred, her expression unreadable in the dark gloom surrounding them, "Maybe Thornhill can muscle our way out of this."  
  
Shaw felt a cold anger rise from deep inside her. Did any of these morons really understand what was actually at stake here ? Kolinsky's master plan couldn't have been to just bury them under tons of concrete and be done with it.  
  
This was never about any of them.  
  
\- "We're not the main course of this dish, Harper", Baker said, displaying a surprising to Shaw's mind grasp on the situation, "This", he extended his arms to encompass the piles of rubble around them, "is merely a diversion."  
  
Maybe the man actually wasn't that useless.  
  
\- "Kolinsky's after bigger game than just us grunts", Shaw explained, "This is his last piece, his coup-de-maître. He just wanted us and the idiots looking for him out of the way."  
  
Pierce took a step in her direction, staring sharply into her eyes. His eyes looked different, Shaw mused, the light seemingly gone from them since Durban died. Those were the eyes of a man with a thirst for revenge and the assorted death wish. The eyes of a dangerous, unreliable man.  
  
\- "Who is he after then ? The man is a murdering lunatic with no clear purpose."  
  
\- "Oh, he has purpose all right", Shaw muttered, "He wants to show the world he can hurt it."  
  
During the long downtime they'd had waiting for Kolinsky to be found, Shaw had studied the man's file, extracted from Samaritan's salvaged archives. He was a delusional paranoid schizophrenic murderer, only driven by his need for violence and the macabre. Each and every one of his murders had been a staged affair, gruesome reminders of the power the maniac thought he held over his fellow man. And now, she assumed, he had found something more.  
  
He wanted to make the Machine hurt. He wanted to make God weep. That was his purpose.  
  
And, deep down, Shaw knew there was but one way Kolinsky was going to fulfill his goal. She had tried not to think about, tried to keep it welled up inside her innermost mind, all in order to stay sharp and get as good a chance as she was going to get to stop him. And she had believed it, believed no single man could go against the Machine and win. But now she knew just how wrong she had been.  
  
\- "We should have stayed above ground", she continued, "We never should have gone down there."  
  
Baker stepped to her side, looking at her with an uncharacteristic expression of camaraderie.  
  
\- "We won't stay stuck here forever Shaw", he assured her, "We'll get the bastard."  
  
The team got back to work, prying at the assembled rubble in their urgent quest for an exit. Time was against them, and they all knew it now. If they didn't escape this place in time, there would be little to stop the devil from taking his due.  
  


* * *

  
Kolinsky lead Finch and Root through across the city, going through camera deadzones and surveillance blindspots with practiced efficiency. Clearly, the former Samaritan operative hadn't been idle these past few days. After a while, they arrived in an abandoned hangar inside which a cage had been setup, whose very sight brought back fearful memories to Root's mind.  
  
_Control. The Machine's absence. Her right ear suddenly going silent._  
  
As soon as she crossed the threshold, the Machine's voice that had been speaking soothing words into her implant abruptly vanished, replaced first by a low buzz of static then by utter and choking silence.  
  
She was alone now. Well and truly alone.  
  
The cage, which Kolinsky locked behind all three of them, was devoid of any furniture save for a single table on which the former operative deposited the pistol he had been threatening his captives, before securing them both to one of the cage walls with zipties, a slight distance apart from each other.  
  
\- "So", Kolinsky said as he sat down on the table next to his pistol, "now that it's just the three of us..."  
  
\- "You cannot win", Finch cut him, his chin held high, "Killing us will accomplish nothing of value, and will only serve to further ensure your own demise."  
  
Kolinsky laughed, the cold, dry chuckle echoing across the empty hangar.  
  
\- "You don't truly believe I intend to make it out of this alive, do you, Harold Finch ? Come now, surely a man of your talent and brilliant intellect must have me figured out by now ?"  
  
\- "You're a maniac", Finch answered in a clipped tone, "and a murderer."  
  
\- "Sure", Kolinsky waved the reply away, "But that is beside the point. What I am is not important, ultimately. Humans... We're just dust in the wind, ephemeral sparkles of life coming and going, snuffed out before any of us can truly amount to anything. We are nothing, you see ? Our existence is both brief and utterly irrelevant. It does not matter whether we live long happy lives, or die young, because there are so many of us anyway ! So many little ants, swarming across the globe in the same dance of life and death for millenniums..."  
  
There was a dangerous intensity in Kolinsky's voice, and he started pacing around the room, inching ever so closer to his captives, his cold eyes drilling into theirs alternatively.  
  
\- "But you both know the truth don't you ? What truly matters. The one single truth there is in this uncaring universe. The one thing that counts.", he turned to Root, a voracious smile giving his features a predatory air, "In the end, in that one defining moment, exactly what do we have left ? We all die alone, no matter how or when we do. There is no comforting presence to usher us out, no supporting voice. When death comes, all we have left is our own selves. Ourselves and our actions. The mark we leave on the world, the difference we made in other's lives. This", he snapped his fingers in front of Root's face, causing her to blink, "is all that lives on. Our deeds, the people we impact, the memories that we carve in history's endless roll of honors. Our legacy."  
  
\- "You legacy", Root spat, "will amount to nothing. What is it exactly that you do, kill people ? Trust me, I've been there... In the end, there will always be someone to stop you."  
  
\- "People like you", Finch completed, "will only ever exist to be thwarted by people like us. No one will remember you, just as no one will remember us. The world will go on regardless, and you won't even warrant a footnote."  
  
In two quick steps, Kolinsky was standing in front of the Machine's creator, a knife appearing in his hand and starting to caress Finch's throat.  
  
\- "I'm afraid", he said slowly, a sadistic gleam dancing in his eyes, "you have it the wrong way around. People like me will thrive so long as there are people like you. We're opposite faces of the same coin, you and I. Still, you're right. Our existences do seem to cancel out each other... Actually it would even seem that your lot now has the edge. After all, you did create a God to watch over you."  
  
In a swift downward strike, Kolinsky cut open the ziptie securing Finch to the cage wall, eliciting a gasp of surprise from the man. Taking a step back, the former Samaritan operative continued.  
  
\- "The thing is... Even a God can be made to hurt. To achieve this, one only needs to become the Devil."  
  


* * *

  
The boulder came down with a resounding crack as Baker and Pierce finally dislodged it, forcing everyone present to take a step down to avoid the tumbling mass of broken concrete as it fell flat on the ground. Eager flashlights immediately beamed inside the newly created gap, looking for some sort of indication this whole labor was not in vain, but found only more rubble lining an unstable-looking cavity.  
  
\- "This is going to take a while", Baker sighed, casting a sidelong glance in Shaw's direction.  
  
\- "Screw this", Pierce kicked a pebble across the room, watching it ricochet around the rubble, "We're stuck and you know it. Whatever is happening out there, we won't be able to do a damn thing to stop it !"  
  
Shaw got up from where she had been busy tying her left around a makeshift sling made out of part of her jacket, and got in the billionaire's face, fury radiating from her every pore.  
  
\- "Don't. Just. Don't. We're not giving up, not now, not ever."  
  
\- "All right Shaw", Harper said, stepping between her and Pierce, her arms extended, "We get it, you're angry. But Logan's right, we're not going to get out of here by playing real-life minecraft with our bare hands. We'll just end up being crushed to death. I'll say it again: our best shot is to wait this one out. We're no use to the others dead."  
  
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Baker sat down on the block of concrete they'd just dislodged and shook his head sadly.  
  
\- "Sorry Shaw, but I think she's right. There's no telling what it's gonna take to bring this down on us... Could be very little."  
  
\- "By now", Shaw said blankly, not even looking away from Pierce, "Kolinsky probably has Finch. Probably has Root. We cannot sit around while they're in mortal danger."  
  
\- "Groves can handle Kolinsky", Baker tried to look confident despite himself, "and she's got her boss looking out for her, doesn't she ?"  
  
Shaw took a step away from Pierce, seething. She felt helpless, useless, broken. Baker was right, it didn't make sense to try and get themselves killed in the forlorn hope they might get to Root and Finch in time. It wasn't smart. It was a stupid decision, the kind Reese would have made in a heartbeat.  
  
The kind that got him killed. The kind that made him the man he was.  
  
\- "Screw this", she grunted, "I'll do it myself."  
  
In a matter of seconds, she was past Baker, fitting her small frame into the opening they'd just dug up, trying her best to look for an opening with one arm. Desperation started to fill her. She had to think straight... Why wasn't she thinking straight ? Root had hurt her, made her feel things she never wanted to feel. The woman was a disease, rotting away at her core, stripping her of what had made her Sameen Shaw.  
  
Or was she ? This whole thing was just to damn confusing.  
  
\- "Shaw !", Baker yelled, "Are you mad ? You'll just..."  
  
The former agent's word of cautions were drowned in a violent, dry sounding detonation as part of the wall behind came down, smoke and dust filling his lungs and the room around him. The Machine assets spun around to face the newly created gap, their weapons drawn.  
  
\- "Hey there", a muffled voice cried out as a small posse of mask-wearing men carrying what looked like salvaged mining equipment entered the room, "Calm down, we're friends."  
  
Extending his hands, palms raised, the man who had spoken removed his mask.  
  
\- "I know you", Baker lowered his shotgun, "You're Yogorov's man."  
  
\- "Name's Dimitri", the thug smiled, "But we hug later, yes ? Special forces are not far behind, we need to go."

* * *

  
**> > > CONTACT REESTABLISHED WITH ASSETS.**  
  
**> > Shaw, Sameen**  
  
**> > Baker, Reginald**  
  
**> > Pierce, Logan**  
  
**> > [redacted], Harper**  
  


* * *

  
  
\- "Tell me again why we're not calling backup on this ?", Silva asked as she and Fusco were sweeping their third hangar of the afternoon, "If your source really has a bead on Kolinsky, we're going to need backup."  
  
\- "Listen, I don't have a clue, all right ? This bothers me as much as it does you, but I've learned not to ask questions."  
  
Truth be told, he had no idea how he would handle the upcoming talk he and Silva were bound to have. The woman was far from stupid, and had probably already figured out half of it. But the Machine had been exceedingly and annoyingly clear: they had to fly this one solo, come hell or high water.  
  
\- "Have it your way", Silva grunted as she flashed her light down an empty storage closet, "But trust me, you'll have some explaining to do once this is over."  
  
\- "Yeah", Fusco groaned, "Figures."  
  


* * *

  
Finch didn't know what to do with himself when he was suddenly freed by his captor, Kolinsky stepping away from him, his knife lowered. This was a trap, there was no question about it, but what kind remained to be seem.  
  
\- "Please", Kolinsky's smile grew wider as he pointed at the table sitting in the middle of the cage, "Go ahead Mr. Finch. Kindly walk to that table and pick up the pistol I left there."  
  
\- "I will not be party to your sick jokes", Finch held his chin high, staring defiantly into the former operative's eyes, "If you intend to kill me, go on and be done with it. No more games."  
  
\- "Life is a game", Kolinsky answered, "A zero-sum game. Lives are saved, lives are taken. In the end, it matters not how many, for that is simple arithmetic. No, what matters is who and how. Pick up the gun, please."  
  
As he spoke, the blond-haired killer turned his back on Finch and took two steps in Root's direction, stopping inches away from her face and raising his knife so that the blade hung between them.  
  
\- "Pick up the gun, Mr. Finch, and I'll explain the rules to you."  
  
Unsteadily, Finch awkwardly shuffled to the table, and rested his hand on the cold, deadly metal instrument. He abhorred guns, and had seldom held one, except in the direst of circumstances. Simply feeling the thing under his fingers made his stomach lurch, a feeling that wasn't help by the fact that he was slowly coming to understand, and dread, what Kolinsky's game was all about.  
  
\- "What shall I do with this, if I may ask ?"  
  
\- "Why", Kolinsky chuckled without diverting his gaze from Root, "but kill me, of course !"  
  
Incredulous, Finch withdrew his hand from the weapon, staggering slightly away from the table.  
  
\- "Do you really believe me to be this stupid ? Or do you crave adrenaline this much that you would truly put your very life into my hands ?"  
  
\- "None of the above, friend... I simply want to see if you have it in you to take a life in cold blood. See, after all you've been through, all you've endured, all you've lost... There is one thing, one small yet significant piece of your soul that you managed to keep intact. You've never killed anyone, have you ? Well, never with your own hands anyway... You've been content to let others do your dirty work, preserving your precious integrity. Well, you have a choice now. Either lose that, or suffer the consequences... Will you kill one to ensure the survival of many ? The survival of those you care about ?"  
  
Finch drew a deep breath. He'd been confronted with this choice before, and had always elected to stay his hand. He would not, could not, commit murder. That was his line, at the very core of his moral precepts. A line he had only ever crossed under the direst of circumstances, to ensure the very survival of mankind. Was this one of these moments ? And besides, wasn't killing a man, even one so far gone as Pavel Kolinsky, so much worse than killing the Machine and Samaritan, artificial beings born of human hubris ?  
  
\- "The Machine must have located us by now", he answered defiantly, "Time is not on your side. I will not play your game. If you really must kill us then do it, but in my heart I know you'll derive no satisfaction from it. What you crave above all is vindication, you hunger for it... You will not find it today, or ever again. You are done."  
  
Root's face, partly obscured as it was by their captor's frame, looked unreadable and despondent to Finch. He knew there was a very real risk that Kolinsky was simply going to kill them on the spot, but he was not going to play along the madman's game. He know that, somehow, the whole thing had to be rigged, and hoped that the former operative really did crave validation above all, meaning he could be stalled.  
  
\- "What do you think, Root ?", Kolinsky sneered, "Shall we make this a little more interesting ?"  
  
With one swift gesture, the knife came down and slashed Root's inner right thigh, sending a spurt of blood to trickle down on the floor as the hacker let out a pained gasp, her eyes bulging slightly in surprise and shock.  
  
\- "Afraid I nicked the femoral artery", Kolinsky shrugged, turning to face Finch and dramatically dropping his knife to the floor, "She's going to bleed out in a matter of minutes... Unless someone applies pressure to that wound and gets her to a hospital quickly."  
  
With a sadistic grin plastered across his features, Kolinsky took a step in Finch's direction and extended his arms, as if offering himself as a sacrifice.  
  
\- "So tell me, _Harry_ , exactly on who's side is time, now ?"  
  
With a start, Finch realized he know held the pistol in his shaking hand, muzzle pointed in Kolinsky's direction. His mind seemed to not be his own anymore, all thought chased away by the sight of Root writhing slowly, trying her best to stand upright in her restrained position, the color draining from her skin. She was dying. Again. And it was all his fault.  
  
Again.  
  
\- "It's okay", he heard her say in a soft voice, "I'm dead either way... Harry don't let him do this to you."  
  
Cold sweat had formed on what felt like the entirety of Finch's body, almost causing the gun to slip from his hand. His index finger tightened around the trigger, revulsion overwhelming his very being.  
  
\- "You are a monster", he spat at Kolinsky, "you do not deserve to exist. You're an abomination."  
  
\- "And yet, here I am, standing in front of you, hurting your friends, killing them and all you're able to do about it is nothing. You know why ? Because, the truth is... You're weak. You're a useless, whimpering coward hiding behind his posse of hired guns, playing God behind a computer. See ? I cut your restraints ages ago, and still you won't save her. You won't save any of them. All it would take for this to end, for her to live, would be for you to pull that trigger. Yet you won't. You want to see an abomination, Harold Finch ? Look into a mirror! At least I have the gall to admit what I am !"  
  


* * *

  
Root had understood what Kolinsky's game was about to be the minute he freed Finch. The man might think himself clever, but she had been like him once, relishing the perversion she could impose on others, the way she could twist their existences, warp their sense of self.The sensation of power it had procured still woke her up at night in cold sweat, shivering. It was nothing short of orgasmic.  
  
But she wasn't that person anymore, or at least she tried not to be. And seeing Finch being coerced that way was making her sick. When Kolinsky cut her, she started to feel her life ebbing away from her, struggling to stay conscious, knowing full well that there would be no waking from the slumber calling her.  
  
Her senses dimmed, then were gone. She could barely hear Finch and Kolinsky, still talking, taunting each other, locked in a battle of wills, the stake of which was her survival. She wanted to tell them that it was already too late, that her life was already forfeit... The voice had told her that, hadn't it ? One day, not today, not tomorrow, but one day, the devil would have his due.  
  
\- "It's okay.. I'm dead either way... Harry don't let him do this to you."  
  
She couldn't see any more, and barely ear. She thought of Sameen, of the things she'd said the last time they talked... Of the things she'd done to her. She always was on borrowed time, had cheated death too many times already. Maybe the world was in fact better without her in it, maybe Shaw would get the life she deserved, free of pain, after a while at least. That is, if she made it out alive as well.  
  
That's what hurt the most, Root mused as she slipped into a dreamless slumber, not knowing. Never knowing if Shaw made it.  
  
There was a loud crack, like thunder. As blackness swallowed her whole, Root wondered why her world had suddenly become so loud.

* * *

  
**-!- SHOTSEEKER ALERT -!-**  
  
**-!- POSSIBLE FIREARM DISCHARGE -!-**  
  
**> > > INVESTIGATING...**  
  


* * *

  
\- "Did you hear that ?", Fusco straightened up, adrenaline suddenly shooting throughout his body.  
  
\- "Gunshot", Silva confirmed, pointing to the hangar on her right, "This way !"  
  
The two detectives started running toward the hangar door, drawing their own weapons and keeping an ear out for more indication of a firefight, which never came. With urgency and efficiency, they burst inside the building, guns drawn just after Silva, finally having received Fusco and the Machine's approval, called for backup over the radio.  
  
\- "NYPD !", Fusco yelled, both gun and torchlight pointed in front of him as Silva covered him, "Hand where I can see 'em !"  
  
The hangar was empty save for a large caged area in the middle of it, which contained a single table and three prone forms. Two of them were huddled together, Harold Finch frantically trying to stop apply pressure on what looked like a very nasty wound on a unconscious Root. A few paces away, laughing maniacally as he bled out from a gunshot wound to his lower abdomen, was Pavel Kolinsky.  
  
\- "Detectives !", Finch cried out, "We need to get her to a hospital, now !"  
  
\- "Both of them by the looks of it", Silva said blankly as she shot the cage's door open and walk to the still laughing Kolinsky, kicking a gun laying nearby away from him, "Backup's on the way."  
  
\- "Do you want to know the truth, detective ?", the former Samaritan operative asked, coughing up blood as Silva handcuffed him before applying a ball of cloth to his wound.  
  
\- "Save it for you trial, asshole", she grunted back, "If you make it that far."  
  
Another laugh, another mouthful of blood spat while Fusco rushed to attend to Root and Finch.  
  
\- "Hell is what we make the world. There is no devil but man himself..."  
  
His whole body shaking, Kolinsky looked as if he was going to die in a state of mental breakdown as he continued rambling.  
  
\- "And lo ! Behold as I have tarnished God's very father ! Isn't that something ?  It is... Isn't it ?"  
  
The sound of the man's manic cackling would haunt Silva's nights for years to come.  
  


* * *

  
  
**It's okay, you're in good hands now, just rest.**  
  
The Machine's voice was Root's lifeline as she felt her whole world rock and budge, dizziness and a sense of eerie disconnect overwhelming her. She was barely aware of people around her, of the warmth of hands supporting her, of a sensation of movement, a sense of urgency.  
  
**You'll make it. You have to make it, please. Do this for us. Do this for me.**  
  
Was the Machine pleading with her ? Was that even possible ?  
  
\- "I'll never let you down", she croaked, "you know that."  
  
A sudden rush by her side.  
  
\- "She should be down."  
  
\- "Ma'am, please, just rel..."  
  
A dark void swallowed her. Then lights, then dark again. Then some more movement. The Machine was silent then, worryingly so.  
  
\- "Am I dead ?", Root asked, her throat raw and dry, her voice hoarse.  
  
To her surprise, there was an answer, in a very familiar voice.  
  
\- "Not even close, stupid", Shaw groaned from what sounded close by, "You even managed to screw _that_ up."  
  
Her vision coming into focus, Root saw that she was in what looked like an hospital room, with Shaw sitting next to her bed on a chair, covered in bruises and her left arm hanging in a sling she had quite obviously fashioned herself.  
  
\- "Sameen ? Are you hurt ?"  
  
Shaw scoffed at the obvious concern in Root's voice, the ghost of a smile flashing across her face.  
  
\- "You're one to ask."  
  
Root chuckled, then coughed. Her throat was definitely to dry for this.  
  
\- "Here", Shaw said as she, not without tenderness, propped the other woman's head up and brought a cup of water to her lips, "you need to hydrate. You lost a lot of blood."  
  
\- "Is Harold all right ?", Root asked when she'd finished drinking, painful memories slowly coming back to her, "Did you get Kolinsky ?"  
  
\- "Finch is fine", Shaw propped herself back on her chair with a content nod, "And the other guy is either in custody or at the morgue right now. Lionel says Harold got him pretty good. Shot half his gut off."  
  
Relief washed over Root. It was finally over, and it sounded as though Kolinsky didn't claim any more innocent lives.  
  
\- "How did you find me ?"  
  
\- "I didn't. Lionel and Silva did, with some help from your robot girlfriend. Just in time too. Myself, I was busy being caved in.", Shaw gestured at her torn clothes and bruised skin, then paused before continuing, "Root, can I ask you a question ?"  
  
\- "Sure", Root tried to smile, but couldn't.  
  
\- "Are you a complete suicidal moron ?"  
  
Silence hung between the two women for a few long seconds before Shaw continued, her tone level but her stare rock hard.  
  
\- "I know Kolinsky managed to pull a fast one on even the Machine, but that's the second time I'm getting you back in a stupid hospital bed in what, a week ? Not to mention your little kamikaze world tour ? Have you completely gone off the rails ? 'cause I need to know."  
  
\- "Sameen, I already t..."  
  
\- "Yeah", Shaw rolled her eyes, "You told about that Roth guy and your silly ass guilt trip. Is it over yet ? I'm sick of this, Root, sick of pretending... Sick of watching you pretend."  
  
Something humid and painful manifested in the corner of Root's eyes.  
  
\- "Pretend what ?"  
  
\- "That you and I", Shaw took a deep breath, the words not quite fully formed in her mind as she started speaking, "That you and I are... Well, that we're meant to not be... Whatever we are. I'm sick of it. You told me your big secret, and I'm still here. Can we stop now ?"  
  
Root couldn't quite wrap her head around what was happening. Shaw's emotional word salad had her shaken to her core, not quite knowing how to react.  
  
\- "I don't want to pretend either, Sameen", she finally said, her voice shaking, "I just... Want to... I just want you. But..."  
  
\- "But what ?", Shaw grunted, "You're afraid I'm gonna go away because some lunatic told you he was going to kill you ?"  
  
That was a shock. As far as she could tell, Root hadn't told anyone this, not even the Machine. How could...  
  
\- "You talk a lot when you're out, you know that ?", Shaw rolled her eyes again, "Well, you talk all the time, actually... But you did spill some interesting beans on your way here."  
  
**I had to tell her. You tried to hide this from those closest to you, but you're not alone.**  
  
Root smiled, then started laughing. Softly at first, barely a chuckle, then gradually she went into what looked a lot like hysterics. Of course the Machine was bound to learn at some point, and of course her first action would be to tell Shaw. She was almost embarrassed thinking she hoped to hide anything from the two beings closest to her heart and thoughts.  
  
\- "Something funny ?", Shaw asked incredulously.  
  
\- "Life", Root managed to articulate amid fits of laughter, "Life is funny, Sameen."  
  
As the other woman's laughter finally calmed down, Shaw simply shook her head and took her hand inside her own, cupping it softly. In that moment, she took a silent yet solemn and unbreakable vow.  
  
Whatever was ahead of them, Root and herself would see it through together.  
 

* * *

  
The hunt for Pavel Kolinsky came to a rather anticlimactic end when he was found bleeding out in     an abandoned hanger by two NYPD detectives following a classified lead. One of the FBI's most wanted, with supposed ties to multiple murders and terror attacks on American soil, had been shot by an unknown party, far from the place special agent Holland had cordoned off under the city in her week long search for him.  
  
Prints were found on the weapon used to shoot Kolinsky, both his and a partial that yielded no match in any government database. The woman the former operative was torturing when he was attacked, whose name was kept from public record, was already unconscious due to severe loss of blood, and could offer no insight.  
  
When he finally came to his senses, all Pavel Kolinsky could offer investigators was what the FBI's behavior analysts could only describe as the rambling of a madman, both utterly incoherent and grandiose. The man would no doubt be declared clinically insane in the coming months, which was bound to impede his upcoming trial. Still, the city could now breathe a little easier, knowing that the beast was now caged.  
  


* * *

  
Finch came by Root's hospital room only once, to say his goodbyes. His presence in that fateful hangar having been stricken off the record by Fusco and the Machine, he had been resting in a nearby safehouse, slowly collecting his thoughts and overcoming the traumatic events of the past week. What he had been forced to do to save both Root and himself held over him like a pall of darkness, and he felt like he sorely needed to see Grace again.  
  
\- "I'm sorry Harry", Root said as he prepared to leave, "I wish there could have been another way."  
  
\- "What happened did so through no fault of yours", Finch said forlornly, "It merely cements my opinion that this life is no longer one I can live."  
  
\- "Still, you came back for me. Saved me."  
  
A slight smile appeared on Finch's lips.  
  
\- "I owed you that much", he said, "And still do. I sincerely hope we meet again, under better circumstances. Give my best to Ms. Shaw."  
  
\- "I will", Root smiled in return, "And thank you. Would margaritas on the beach be amenable to you ?"  
  
Finch chuckled lightly as he put his fedora on and walked to the door in his trademark shuffling gait.  
  
\- "Quite so. Be safe, Root."  
  
As the door came shut behind Finch, Root felt warmth envelop her. For all his faults, that man had made sacrifice after sacrifice to save her, to make a better person out of her. He'd never given up, and came back when she needed him most. The fact that both Finch and Shaw had been willing to go this far for her meant the world, and she couldn't help but feel that this could mean that, maybe someday, somewhere, there was a future for her that wasn't simply an honorable death.  
  
Maybe she could have a life too.  
  


* * *

  
_Shaw's eyes do not leaver her own while she listens to her story, her expression utterly unreadable, even to her._  
  
_\- "So, this Roth guy... You killed him ?"_  
  
_\- "Yes", Root nods slowly, "I did. He was bad code, very bad code. He had to go."_  
  
_A sigh, an eye roll._  
  
_\- "And that's why you've fled halfway across the world ? You were worried I was going to find out you killed some douchebag gun for hire ?"_  
  
_Root stays silent for a long while, the words not quite ready to come just yet._  
  
_\- "No, Sameen", she finally and slowly says, "That's not it. I... I did not just kill Eugene Roth. I made him."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading ! I finally got to write that Kolinsky-Finch climax I had been planning for quite some time (since the previous fic, actually), let me know what you think.


	13. Special Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A delivery driver's number comes up. Baker goes undercover. Root and Shaw adjust. Fusco and Silva have a talk.

**> > > MONITORING CURRENT EVENTS...**  
  
_\- "Sir, I'm sorry but I have to insist that you sign this..."_  
  
_\- "Listen kid, like I said, it's already been taken care of."_  
  
_\- "Sir I... Oh, well you're right, the system just validated..."_  
  
_\- "Get lost, kid."_  
  


* * *

  
Lionel Fusco drove Harold Finch, Logan Pierce and Harper Rose to their airport, not even complaining that much about being once again used as the team's glorified taxi. If he was being honest, he would rather have been doing anything than facing his partner right now, not being quite sure how he was going to spin the last few days' events to her. Wistfully, he mused this must have been how Reese had felt about him for quite a while, which was deliciously ironic in and out of himself.  
  
\- "Here you go", he said, as he handed Finch his surprisingly light suitcase, wondering if the man had managed to devise a way to manifest designer suits out of thin hair, "Have a safe flight."  
  
\- "Thank you detective", Finch extended an awkward hand in Fusco's direction, "It's been good seeing you again."  
  
\- "Yeah, well, maybe next time you disappear in the middle of an apocalypse gimme a call, all right ?"  
  
\- "I will."  
  
After a moment of silence, Fusco grasped the other man's hand and shook it vigorously, smiling genuinely.  
  
\- "You know what Glasses ? It's been nice to have you around, in spite of everything. I dread to think what kind of craziness I would have had to deal with if you hadn't been around...", Fusco grew pensive, his smile all but vanishing from his face, "Eh... Hum, listen. I don't know what happened in there with that piece of crap, but know this... Wasn't your fault, okay ? You did what you had to do."  
  
A sad smile flashed across Finch's features as he straightened his fedora on his head and made to go inside the airport, casting a last glance at Fusco.  
  
\- "You may very well be right detective, but I'm afraid that is of very little consolation. Regardless, I thank you. You've been a true a true friend to me... To all of us. Keep and eye on the others for me, will you ?"  
  
\- "Will do", Fusco nodded briskly, his voice catching in his throat, "Take care o' yourself, Glasses. You're a good guy."  
  
Not looking back, Finch made his way inside the building, catching up with Pierce and Harper who had been waiting for him inside, and exchanging brief words of farewell with the latter before leading the former away from his comrade for a quick talk.  
  
\- "Mr. Pierce", he started, not quite sure how to express what he felt regarding the younger man's recent attitude, "I'm afraid I have to give you a word of advice... And caution, regarding a certain... Path you intend to take."  
  
\- "That is nice of you Harold", Pierce didn't smile, his usual cheerful exterior clearly buried under a ocean of pain and sorrow, "But that is not your cross to bear. Still, I truly appreciate the gesture."  
  
\- "Still", Finch held the other man's gaze, "hear this: revenge _will_ destroy you. Trust me, I know just how keenly you are hurting right now, and just how eager you are to take drastic action. Yet my advice to you is brutally simple: do not. The only thing this will ever give birth to is pain."  
  
\- "Have a safe trip Harold", Pierce tapped Finch's shoulder as he walked away to rejoin with Harper, "and thank you for your advice."  
  
After a few paces, the billionaire turned back and stared at Finch, his eyes telling the story of a broken man.  
  
\- "I did mean that", he simply said, "Goodbye Harold."

* * *

  
As if Casey Williams's life wasn't already shitty enough, management just _had_ to saddle him with an intern. And not even a good one at that, some black-haired weirdo that looked like he was ex-military or something, going by the way he walked just too goddamn stiff. Well, at least he could be of some use lugging heavy packages around, Williams thought, and maybe, with a bit of luck, he wasn't too bad at making coffee.  
  
\- "You said your name was... Pastry ?"  
  
The intern raised an eyebrow, as if he'd just discovered his own bloody name, briefly struggling for words. Great, was he some of sort of challenged individual as well ?  
  
\- "Yeah", the intern finally said, "Reginald Pastry. Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams."  
  
\- "Call me Casey."  
  
God, _Reginald_ Pastry ? This guy's parents really must have hated him for some reason.  
  
\- "All right, Casey", the intern looked annoyed, for some reason, prompting Williams to silently pray that he wasn't some sort of murdering lunatic, "So, were are we going today ?"  
  
\- "We", Williams audibly groaned, "are going to go around the city delivering packages, unless there's been some major change I've not been made aware of. However, you are going to get me coffee first, all right ?"  
  
\- "Sure thing", the intern said, casting Williams a look that made him suddenly fear for his very life, "Be right back."  
  
Really, who was this guy ?  
  


* * *

  
\- "All right, Root", Reginald Baker hissed into his earpiece as soon as he was out of the room, looking for something resembling a coffee machine in the general vicinity, "Can we maybe talk about alias etiquette for a minute ?"  
  
\- "Why", came the cheerful reply over the comms, "Would you have preferred something more exotic ? Forêt-Noire maybe ?"  
  
Having found the empty break room, Baker quickly homed in on the coffee machine and tried to locate suitable supplies around him.  
  
\- "Enough already, you've had your fun."  
  
\- "Not even close, Reggie", Root teased, "Not even close... Besides, I'm still bedridden for a couple days, so I must confess to being a little bored. Humor me."  
  
\- "I'll humor you with a bullet if you keep this up", Baker threatened as he dropped an unreasonably high dose of coffee into the machine, "God, I should have killed you when I had the chance..."  
  
\- "Reginald, sweetie", Root corrected him in a patronizing yet playful voice, "you never did. So, how is our number ?"  
  
\- "Boring. And an asshole."  
  
\- "Great", Shaw's suddenly voice cut in, almost making Baker jump, "You'll go along just fine."  
  
With an irritated sigh, Baker tapped his earpiece, cutting the two-ways communication. Exactly how had he found himself taking orders from the insane clown posse, he still wasn't exactly sure. Well, he just had to hope his coffee was going to be bad enough to kill that douchebag Williams and end this stupid mission early.  
  


* * *

  
**> > > REPLAYING AUDIO ARCHIVE... **  
  
**> > ARCHIVE ID: SAM00LX8**  
  
@jgreer: Words are just wind. Get to the point before I loose patience.  
  
@unknown: As you wish. We have picked up chatter inside your organization indicating an interest in one Samantha Groves.  
  
**// ATTEMPTING TO EXTRACT UNCORRUPTED VOICE SAMPLE...**  
  


* * *

  
For the entirety of her stay there, Root had dreaded the day she was going to be discharged from the hospital, not daring to try and wrap her head around just how exactly she was going to get back into a life she had left so abruptly and under such terrible circumstances. She had dreaded it so much that she had actually chosen one of Shaw's absences to quietly complete her paperwork, all under a fake Machine-provided identity, and slip away from the hospital, still hobbling slightly on her non-injured leg. As she had reached the front door and hailed a cab, she had elected to go lay low in one of their safe houses for a while, intending to give both Shaw and herself time to try and figure out exactly where they stood.  
  
As life would have it, however, things did not quite go according to plan.  
  
\- "So", a quiet voice had said in her left ear, almost a whisper, "You really giving me the slip again ?"  
  
\- "Shaw ?" had been Root's startled mind only offering for answer.  
  
\- "Yeah, that's my name you dork. Now shut up and go home."  
  
And so she was now, lounging on her and Shaw's couch, in her and Shaw's living room, inside her and Shaw's apartment, as if almost nothing had happened. Still, things had changed slightly, and Root could feel her companion's attitude towards her had... almost softened somewhat. It was a strange feeling, and one that did not come without its share of guilt at abandoning someone who clearly cared so deeply for her, and for whom she cared equally as much.  
  
Still, their relation always had been a no-nonsense sort of deal, and they had decided to give it another shot, to just go past what had happened, and Root would be damned if she screwed this one up. Even if she felt as if living on borrowed time, waiting for a faceless death to take her, she understood now that living, for however long, without Shaw was just about the stupidest mistake she could make.  
  
\- "Hey Root", Shaw's voice coming out of her implant pulled her away from her thoughts, "Any news from Baker yet ?"  
  
\- "Hey sweetie", Root's tone wasn't quite as sugary as it used to be, she mused. She would have to work on that. "Not much I'm afraid...He's out delivering parcels now."  
  
\- "Glad I'm not the one with the stupid cover this time. You got GPS on the truck ?"  
  
\- "Are you saying you don't like my covers Sameen ?", Root smiled, lounging back into the couch, "I've got some right here that could use your presence underneath them."  
  
The eye-roll was all but audible in Shaw's reply.  
  
\- "How about you", she paused from dramatic effect, clearly enjoying the flirty undertones' comeback despite herself, "give me GPS on Baker before I strangle you with 'em ?"  
  
\- "How about", Root teased, "you change that before into an afterwards ?"  
  


* * *

  
Fusco had made sure to take Silva to one of the few cafes this side of the city that didn't use any kind of video-surveillance. Sure, the other evil robot might be dead, but that hadn't stopped it from screwing them over a couple extra times, so the detective figured it was better to be safe than sorry and quite probably dead.  
  
\- "All right", Silva grimaced as she tasted the awful coffee she had just been served, "I'm gonna assume you didn't bring me here on a date, which means it's finally time for _that_ talk."  
  
\- "What can I say ?", Fusco tried to look carefree as he eyed in own cup with a mixture of apprehension and disgust, "You're not my type. Too skinny."  
  
That made Silva smile. Hell, at least that was that.  
  
\- "So, Fusco, are you going to finally come clean about that mysterious source of yours ? Or about your top-secret vacation that just happened to take place the minute IA was finally tying the noose around your neck ?"  
  
Fusco must have looked surprised, because his companion shook his head as she continued.  
  
\- "C'mon, you know I used to work there, don't you ? I'm not the kind of girl to leave a place like IA without keeping a few numbers on speed dial."  
  
\- "Guess not. Looks like you figured a lot of things out already."  
  
\- "Possibly."  
  
\- "You know what ?", Fusco tried to take a sip from his coffee, but quickly refrained from it, mostly due to the fact that the beverage actually smelt like _fish_ , of all things, "Let's play this for real. You tell me what you think, and I'll tell you the whole damn truth."  
  
\- "Why should I trust a word you say ?", Silva surprised Fusco by suddenly going deathly serious, her eyes like twin laser beams conducting a cold, analytical evaluation.  
  
\- "Oh, you'll believe me", Fusco smiled grimly, "No doubt about that. You know, I used to be a skeptic myself."  
  
\- "A skeptic ?", Silva smiled without any warmth or joy, "A dirty cop you mean ? I know you were on HR's payroll, Fusco. I also know there have been not one, but two distinct IA investigation targeting you this past couple years. Not to mention an FBI special agent making it his God-given mission to bring you to justice for what I can only qualify as a metric fuckton of cop murders. Do you know what happened to your pal Wilkerson, Fusco ?"  
  
Actually, he didn't. Last time he had seen the man, they were being ambushed by a bunch of CIA agents in the middle of nowhere.  
  
\- "He got transferred", Silva continued, "to the IRS. He's a tax collector now. It all happened almost overnight, right when you disappeared and I was busy eating morphine out of a pipe stuck in my goddamn arm. So yeah, that got me thinking. Who exactly are you working for ? Can't be organized crime, or some sort of HR 2.0, since those wouldn't have the clout to remove an FBI agent like that. So I figure this has to be something bigger. And then there's the matter of that intel you get... I mean, I've seen it firsthand in the Kolinsky case, but I already knew your reputation. You get weird phone calls all the time, and you're always there whenever epic level shit goes down. A woman gets gunned down by a minigun and a sniper rifle in the middle of New York ? You're there. Some psycho blows up the interstate ? You're there. An FBI agent confesses to being a serial killer ? He tries to abduct you. A gang war goes down where both kingpins are shot dead by unidentified sharpshooters ? Hey, everybody, look ! It's Lionel fucking Fusco !"  
  
Fusco smiled. The woman was impressive, if a little bit scary. She would probably make a very potent ally... Or a terrifying enemy.  
  
\- "So", Silva concluded, downing her fell-tasting coffee in one gulp, "what are you, really ? CIA, NSA, the goddamn SHIELD ?"  
  
\- "Sorry to disappoint", Fusco sighed, pushing away his own cup, "but I'm just a cop, and not even a good one at that. However, you're right on one count: I got some weird friends."  
  
\- "No more games, Fusco."  
  
\- "You sure about that ? Cause once you're in, you're all in. Don't say I didn't warn you."  
  
Silva sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes in way that reminded Fusco of somebody else.  
  
\- "I'm a big girl. I can handle it."  
  
\- "All right", Fusco conceded with a shrug, "Then there's somebody you gotta meet."  
  
With that, he slid his phone across the table to his partner, the device ringing with an unknown caller ID.  
  
\- "A word of advice", he added, "Don't talk about robots."  
  


* * *

  
**> > > INITIATING CONTACT WITH POTENTIAL ASSET: Silva, Dani**  
  
**> > EVALUATING POTENTIAL ASSET...**  
  


* * *

  
Now, Reginald Baker was certain, he was going to murder Root. It was the kind of deep, etched-in-stone certainty that a man only got in moments of absolute clarity. The kind of a drive that defined the very essence of a being.  
  
The kind of drive that could only be borne in the crux of war, or in the tedium of a four hour delivery shift with the most boring man alive for sole company.  
  
\- "All right", Williams said with an utterly incomprehensible cheerful expression, "Looks like we're done for the day ! Time to head home."  
  
\- "Yay", Baker half-moaned, trying his best not to entertain murder fantasies about the man. He was, after all, the guy he was supposed to watch over.  
  
Or was he ? The former ISA operative hadn't paid much attention to Root's rambling about free will and the like, but he seemed to remember the Machine didn't want to to tell them whether or not the number was a victim or a perpetrator. A waste of time and intel, surely, but hey, if it meant there was a fifty percent chance Baker might end up murdering Williams, it was good enough for him.  
  
\- "Seven Three Five", the car radio unit came alive, tearing Baker away from his grim musings, "Change of plans, you have a last minute pickup to do."  
  
Great. Just great.  
  
  


* * *

  
**> > > REPLAYING AUDIO ARCHIVE... **  
  
**> > ARCHIVE ID: SAM00LX8**  
  
@unknown: As |  you | wish.  
  
**// ISOLATING SPEECH PATTERNS FOR CROSS REFERENCE...**  
  
@unknown: Sa-mantha | Gro-ves.  
  
**// PARSING...**  
  


* * *

  
Shaw was sitting in her car, next to Baker's last recorded position, waiting for the moment the man would, inevitably, need backup. She figured that was one of the downside of not being swarmed with numbers, having to play baby-sitter for the team's newest recruit. Well, she thought, maybe not newest recruit for so long actually.  
  
\- "Root ?", Shaw keyed in her earpiece, "Any news from Fusco ?"  
  
\- "Miss me already ?", a silence, an eye-roll, "No, no news yet. But the Machine has things under control down there, you needn't worry Sameen."  
  
\- "I don't like it. How do we know that woman isn't going to blow up our whole operation ? Or that she's even going to believe us ? We could have strung her along without giving the game away."  
  
\- "I know that", Root sounded pensive, "But She didn't believe it would be wise to do so. You know, She doesn't share all her reasoning with me... But in the end, She's always right."  
  
\- "Like when she told you not to run away ?", Shaw shot back, almost despite herself. Well, guess that had to come out...  
  
\- "Yes", the reply was made in the small, vulnerable voice Root only ever only used when she was alone with Shaw, "Like so."  
  
\- "Root, I'm..."  
  
Shaw wasn't exactly sure what she wanted to say she was, and the sentence hung up in the air for a few seconds.  
  
\- "No", Root said, "you're not. But that's okay, Sameen. You don't have to be... That's not who you are, and I wouldn't want you to not be that person anymore."  
  
\- "Still", Shaw swiftly cut in, not wanting the conversation to get any more... weird, "I don't like that. We already have Baker to get a handle of, why add another piece to the already way too complicated puzzle ?"  
  
\- "Well...", Root started, before suddenly going silent, "Shaw ? Something's wrong."  
  
\- "What ?"  
  
\- "Baker and Williams are on the move, but the call didn't come from dispatch, but from a local transmitter that hacked into the network. It's probably a trap."  
  
If there was one thing Shaw thought she was good at, apart from shooting people, it was thinking on her feet. Baker could probably handle a run-of-the-mill ambush, especially with Root's assistance, but whoever had made that transmission wasn't going to linger long in the area, and was probably their best lead yet.  
  
\- "Warn Baker", she said, taking her car around in a feat of one-armed driving due to her broken arm, "and get me that transmitter's location. That's our best shot at finding out what's going on."

* * *

  
**> > > TRACKING ROGUE TRANSMISSION... Done.**  
  
**> > SENDING COORDINATES TO ASSET.**  
  


* * *

  
\- "All right", Williams said as he put the gear in park, "Here we are. Let's get that package."  
  
Even if Baker hadn't received Root's warning in his earpiece, he would have suspected something fishy was about to go down as soon as they had taken their van in the middle of what looked like a deserted parking garage to pick up a parcel for a belated client. Clearly, whoever was going after Williams wasn't exactly the imaginative type.  
  
Or maybe this whole thing was a setup and Williams was about to try and sell him to whatever nefarious associates he had ? That would be so much more interesting...  
  
\- "Anybody there ?", the utterly clueless delivery driver yelled as he got out the truck, causing an audible grunt to escape Baker's lips as he grasped for his messenger bag behind the seat. Whatever was about to go down he could do with...  
  
Everything went to hell way too fast.  
  
First, Williams turned to Baker, clearly having heard his disapproval-laden and animal sounding-reply.  
  
\- "What ?", he asked, before noticing his companion was trying to get his bag from behind him while keeping a very watchful eye around, fear suddenly flashing in his eyes, "Hey, what are you doing down there man ?"  
  
Second, Baker noticed movement from the corner of his right eye, dark shapes closing in, using parked cars and pillars for cover. Professionals, by the looks of it. Well, that meant there wasn't going to be enough time to get that stupid bag after all.  
  
Third, half a second after Baker threw himself out of the delivery van and grabbed Williams, yanking him behind the vehicle, bullets started flying, a veritable hailstorm of them, which meant two things: their assailant had assault weapons, which was bad, and Williams wasn't the perpetrator, which was worst.  
  
\- "Remind me again why I felt the urge to help you guys out ?", Baker complained through gritted teeth as he produced a compact handgun from his waistband, causing Williams to look even more scared than he currently was, prostrated in a state of shock behind their precarious and rocking cover.  
  
\- "What ?!", the delivery driver managed to stutter amid the surrounding chaos.  
  
Baker turned to face him and made a show of arming his weapon while looking him right in the eye.  
  
\- "I wasn't talking to you."  
  


* * *

  
Shaw parked, or rather crashed with the slightest hint of control, her car in front, or rather through the front window, of the derelict building Root had indicated as the source of the transmission Williams had received, and jumped out of hit, gun in hand and trying her best to ignore the lingering pain in her left arm, who still was held in a sling. Making quick and efficient use of the entry point she'd just created, she got inside and started climbing the nearest flight of stairs, figuring a radio transmitter would probably want to operate at the topmost level of the old tenement building.  
  
\- "The NYPD has already received two calls about a car crashing into a building in your area", Root annoyed her over the comms, "Did you by any chance see anything ?"  
  
\- "Shut up Root", Shaw cut the other woman off, panting slightly, "and get me a fix on that transmitter. I don't intend to stick around and wait for the bumble squad."  
  
\- "Can't really do both of those things, can I ?", Root audibly pouted.  
  
\- "Root !"  
  
\- "Top floor, to the north-east. I suggest taking the stairway to your left, as She can see a group of gangbangers occupying the other from the camera across the street, and they don't look too pleased with your... Dynamic entry."  
  
Without wasting a breath to humor the other woman annoying, if useful sometimes, tendency to chatter at the worst possible times, Shaw made for the indicated stairwell, climbing it as quick as she could and soon emerged on the building's rooftop, where she was faced with a man in dark overalls hurriedly finishing to pack a rather impressive amount of electronics.  
  
\- "Hey there MacGyver", Shaw saluted him, aiming her pistol at his chest as he turned back in surprise, "Nice rig... Mind if I borrow it ?"  
  
The man was a plain looking forty-something, with disheveled blond hair and a stubble of beard, dressed in the kind of utility suit cable workers favored. The weird part, to Shaw, was that he only looked surprised, not quite scared. Obviously, this wasn't the first time that man had been held at gunpoint.  
  
\- "Sorry", he said, extending his hands upward, palms outstretched, "But I'm afraid I mind."  
  
Something was off, Shaw thought, just as she caught a glimpse of an metallic flashing in the dying light of the setting sun, away on a nearby rooftop.  
  
\- "Damn it", she cursed, ducking down barely a second before a high-energy shell impacted the wall in front of which she had been standing. Taking cover behind a nearby concrete divider, she collected her thoughts and chided herself for making such a rookie mistake, "Root, that asshole has got a sniper covering him... This is gonna take slightly longer than I expected."

* * *

  
Baker was forced to admit whoever was currently trying to kill him wasn't totally bad at it. From the brief glances he managed to steal while returning fire, he counted five men, all armed with what looked like heavily customized FN P90 submachine guns, covering each other's advance with controlled burst of suppressive fire and overlapping fire-arcs. So far, they had even managed not to blow up the delivery van or any other vehicle in the lot, a fact that truly was a testament to their professionalism.  
  
These guys weren't amateurs, and Baker was starting to feel outgunned. A fact that he did not like one bit.  
  
\- "I need to get to my bag", he announced while ejecting another clip from his pistol, "Preferably without being turned into Swiss cheese in the process."  
  
\- "Man...", Williams started before being cut by his companion of misfortune sending a stormy stare his way.  
  
\- "I don't have eyes down there", Root said in Baker's earpiece, "They must have cut the cameras before going in."  
  
\- "Great. And I suppose backup is out of the question too ?"  
  
\- "Shaw is otherwise occupied... I'll try to get Fusco to come and visit, but no promises."  
  
\- "Right", Baker slammed his last remaining clip into his weapon, completely ignoring Williams's expression of befuddlement as he was ostensibly talking to himself in the middle of a firefight, "Cause who needs a trained operative when you can have the doughnut squad bumbling away to your rescue ?"  
  
Root made a crude noise with what Baker hoped very much was her mouth.  
  
\- "Manners, Reggie", she chided him, "Besides, you're a big boy, you can handle a few thugs... "  
  
\- "Yeah well", Baker straightened his back on the truck's metal frame, noticing his attackers' suppressive fire seemed to die down a little, "if I don't, it's been fun not murdering you."  
  
\- "Don't be a drama queen... Go get 'em !"  
  
Taking a deep breath, Baker lunged out of his cover, quickly setting his sight on one of the black-clad thugs and putting a bullet through his left kneecap. Before the hapless henchman had hit the ground, his four comrades turned about and opened fire, riddling the area Baker had occupied mere seconds ago with bullets, just as the former operative jumped inside the delivery van's front compartment, laying down suppressive fire as he went.  
  
Once inside the vehicles cabin, he quickly grabbed his messenger bag and went down hard, counting on the vehicle's bulky frame to buy him a couple seconds respite from the murdering thunderstorm headed his way. Unfortunately, a lucky tore right threw on of the van's front doors and caught him in the lower left abdomen, causing a ripple of pain to course throughout his body.  
  
\- "Shouldn't have done that, motherfuckers", Baker groaned through gritted teeth before unzipping his bag open and retrieved a the mean looking combat shotgun he had taken from the team's safehouse a while ago.  
  
Wheeling around, the black haired got up and emptied his weapon in his attackers' direction, literally blasting the legs from under one of the and causing the others to fall back to more defensible positions while Baker rejoined with Williams behind the van.  
  
\- "You're...", the delivery man stuttered, pointing at the blood seeping under Baker's jacket.  
  
\- "No shit, Sherlock", came the dismissive reply, "I've got them on the back foot, but we're still outnumbered. How fast can you run to the exit ?"  
  
\- "I dunno man... Pretty fast, given the circumstances."  
  
\- "Then go", Baker yelled, pushing Williams away and getting up, his weapon already vomiting death in their opponents' direction, "Go !"  
  
As it turned out, Williams did manage to run rather fast.

* * *

  
After a few minutes of rather surreal conversation, Silva slowly put the phone down. She looked shaken, almost traumatized.  
  
\- "Fusco", she half-whispered, clearly in a state of shock, "What the fuck ?"  
  
\- "Yeah", her companion smiled sadly, "Been there. But it's all real, every single corny detail... Told ya there was no going back, partner."  
  
\- "I...", Silva got up, her hands trembling as she pushed her chair back under the table, "I... Need time to..."  
  
\- "You're free to go", Fusco shrugged, "Don't worry about us. The way we see it, nobody's gonna believe you anyway. Take your time, think about it, that's all we ask."  
  
Throwing a handful of change on the table, Silva carefully avoided to look at Fusco. She was clearly taking this very hard, as was to be expected when one learned there had been an all-seeing artificial super-intelligence watching over mankind for years.  
  
\- "Goodbye Fusco", she stammered, "I'll... See you around."  
  
Fusco watched his partner walk away, wondering not for the first time whether they'd made the right call bringing her all in like that. Still, he didn't like the idea to lie to yet another person, possibly getting her killed like so many before her. Despite the possible fallout, he still felt that had been the honest thing to do. Yet, honest and right did not always align...  
  
\- "Lionel ?", Root's voice in his ear tore him from his reverie, "Could you spare a minute to give a friend a ride ?"  
  


* * *

  
Being stranded on a rooftop, with one useless arm and cowering from sniper fire while her mark got away and the police were on their way wasn't exactly how Shaw had planned to spend her afternoon. Who were these guys, anyway ? By the looks of it, they weren't rookies.  
  
\- "Root ?", she called over the comms, "Any way I can stop our guy from leaving without getting my ass Stalingrad'd ?"  
  
\- "I'm trying to pinpoint his exact location using street camera feeds, but it's proving difficult... Hang in there Sameen."  
  
\- "The blond nerd is leaving, Root. If you don't give me intel real soon I'm going to have to Reese it."  
  
Shaw risked a quick glance out of her hiding place, and saw that the man she had tried to stop earlier was almost done packing his equipment. From her reckoning, the sharpshooter was just across the street, with a plain line of sight to the stairway entrance, meaning any attempt at stopping his companion from leaving would be met with immediate death. Still, if she was quick enough, she probably could get a shot off, maybe cripple or slow down the blond man somehow...  
  
\- "Got it !", Root cried out hurriedly, "They've cut all cameras overlooking the building immediately north of your position, across the street."  
  
\- "So, that's were the bastard is hiding. Is there any way I can move to get a shot ?"  
  
\- "If you throw a smoke grenade forty degrees to your left, you'll block the sniper's shot for ten, maybe fifteen seconds. It's risky..."  
  
\- "No other options, Root", Shaw cut her off, "I'm going in."  
  
\- "Sameen, just..."  
  
Without replying, Shaw deftly tucked her gun under her chin, produced a smoke grenade out of her coat pocket and threw it to the position Root had indicated, before immediately breaking cover to take her shot. The perfectly aimed bullet whizzed across the rooftop and caught the blond haired technician right above his left kneecap, sending him down hard.  
  
\- "Got him", Shaw smiled as she jumped back into cover just in time to hear another high-energy round impact a nearby wall, "and not a minute too soon."  
  
\- "Good", Root sighed in relief, "The police will be here shortly, and I doubt our sniper friend will stick around to..."  
  
There was a loud crack and a soft thumping noise, which Shaw didn't need to look out of her hiding spot to identify.  
  
\- "Forget it, Root", she grunted, "I think our only lead just got terminated."

* * *

  
Once he got out, Casey Williams found himself at a loss concerning what to do next. He found it suddenly very difficult to think about, let alone process what had just happened to him. Did he truly just get in the middle of a firefight on his delivery route ? Who on earth coudld possibly have any reason to want him dead ? And who in the hell was that intern of his, really ?  
  
So many questions, so little answers. Behind him, inside the parking garage, he could still ear the occasional gunshot, reminding him that what he had experienced was, indeed, quite real.  
  
His attention was suddenly captivated by the sound of sirens, and he saw a police car skid to a halt right in front of him, and a rather chubby man get out, gesturing in his direction.  
  
\- "Hey there bud, you alright ?"  
  
\- "I...", Williams stuttered, "I'm... Yes..."  
  
\- "Well you're standing in the middle of the road", the cop told him, making him realize that, yes, indeed, he was, "Get in the car. What happened to you ?"  
  
\- "He'll be fine", a tired voice called from a small distance away.  
  
Wheeling around, Williams saw his intern, or whoever Reginald Pastry actually was, walking out of the parking garage, his shotgun resting on his right shoulder while his left hand was applying pressure to his abdomen. Covered in bruises, blood and grime, he looked like he'd just gotten away from hell.  
  
\- "Hey there pal", the cop called, as if he knew the man, "You look even shittier than usual."  
  
\- "And you even fatter", the 'intern' taunted with a smile that wasn't entirely devoid of humor, "I don't suppose you'd have a fist aid kit lying around, would you ?"  
  


* * *

  
Casey Williams was taken into protective custody immediately after Fusco picked him up, even though no trace of his attackers could be found once backup arrived at the scene. No links were ever established between this attempted murder of a delivery driver and the former US Marine that was gunned down on a rooftop that same afternoon.  
  
Once interrogated, Williams did mention a very strange delivery he'd made a few weeks earlier to an unknown party of some very high-end looking computer equipment. Upon receiving the items, the electronic receipt had automatically filled himself, prompting the delivery man to ask questions. Of course, no trace of that particular recipient was ever found in Williams's company database, and the address he'd delivered the items to turned out to have been vacant since 2004. All in all, the whole thing stank of an organized crime cleanup, and Williams was put into the witness protection program, pending further federal inquiry into the matter.  
  


* * *

  
\- "Here you go", Shaw announced as she finished patching Baker up, "Try not to screw up when changing the dressing."  
  
\- "Will do, doctor", the man smiled sarcastically.  
  
A few paces away from them, Root shot Baker a beaming smile.  
  
\- "So, Reginald", she chirped, "Is that the first bullet you've taken for us ?"  
  
\- "Dunno about that", Shaw scoffed, packing up her first-aid kit, "But I shot him once. First time we met, actually."  
  
\- "Oh", Root pouted in fake disappointment, "and here I thought I was the only one you shot at first sight..."  
  
\- "Both of you are a complete and utter mess, you know that ?", Baker shook his head as he carefully put his jacket back on, "See you around."  
  
When the man had made his exit, finally using the front door for once, Shaw turned to Root and took a tentative step in the other woman's direction.  
  
\- "You okay Root ?"  
  
\- "She didn't get anything from the transmitter. The one thing she did get, though, is our dead techie's employer."  
  
\- "Employer ?", Shaw sat down on the couch beside the tall hacker, mere inches away from her.  
  
\- "Yes, and it's an interesting one. After he was discharged from the military, our late friend did a few tours working for Theta Solutions."  
  
\- "Theta ?", Shaw knew that name, and it didn't bode well, "the defense contractor ?"  
  
\- "More like mercenaries, but yes... They almost went bankrupt a few years ago, due to some bad PR overseas but now it seems they're back on the market. We're looking into it."  
  
Shaw stayed pensive for a moment, musing on the implications of what Root had just said. If a bona fide mercenary group was somehow mixed up in this, acting on American soil, that meant whoever was after Williams had some serious clout. But after a few seconds, she shook her head and turned to face her companion.  
  
\- "Yet that wasn't my question. Are you okay, Root ?"  
  
\- "I... I guess I don't know. I have to fight that... Urge now, that urge to run away."  
  
Shaw raised an eyebrow, inching closer to Root on the couch without quite making contact yet.  
  
\- "Guess I'll have to kick that urge's ass, then. 'Cause you told me you're not going anywhere, remember ?"  
  
\- "Of course I do", Root wet her lips, looking away, "But I still did the things I did... I still opened limited access to government surveillance to something that looks a lot like a terrorist group..."  
  
\- "And", Shaw's elbow brushed against Root's, "we'll fix it. The Machine still trumps whatever these guys have by a mile and a half, doesn't she ?"  
  
\- "She does", the hacker's eyes went back to her companion, "You're right... But still, after all that happened, I want to make sure I fix it before any more innocent people die. There's already been far too much of that."  
  
\- "Which is why", Shaw grabbed Root's hand with almost excessive force, betraying just how unsettled the past few weeks had made her on several levels, "I'm not going to let any of these idiots get you. That's a promise, Root."  
  
\- "I'm not afraid of dying, Sameen... I just don't want to. Not just yet."  
  
That, Root mused as Shaw leaned to give her a quick and almost ethereal kiss, was the one change in her life she had the more trouble adjusting to. Death had always been at most indifferent to her... Why was it so undesirable an outcome now ? Should it not be ?  
  
With a smile that still held far too much unspoken doubts, she laid her head down on Shaw's shoulder and closed her eyes, taking in her companion's presence. That, she decided, was the one thing she just couldn't do without.  
  
\- "Root ?", Shaw asked in a flat yet subtly playful tone, "You know... Nobody walks away from me twice and lives, understood ?"  
  
The smile on the hacker's face grew warmer, more genuine.  
  
\- "Absolutely", she whispered.

* * *

  
**> > > REPLAYING AUDIO ARCHIVE... **  
  
**> > ARCHIVE ID: SAM00LX8**  
  
@unknown: As |  you | wish.  
  
**// ISOLATING SPEECH PATTERNS FOR CROSS REFERENCE...**  
  
@unknown: Sa-mantha | Gro-ves.  
  
**// PARSING... done.**  
  
**-!- ONE MATCH FOUND -!-**  
  
**-!- ERROR: MATCH IS INCONSISTENT WITH ARCHIVED DATA -!-**  
  
**> > > REASON FOR INCONSISTENCY: SUBJECT DECEASED.**

**> > SUBJECT NAME: Roth, Eugene.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one was a bit long in the making, I wanted to get a few chapters written before I published again, to keep the story focused.
> 
> Next chapter will be titled "Off the Hook".


End file.
